


To Be Alone With You

by KayLingLing7



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Eren Yeager/Armin Arlert around chapter 6, High School AU, M/M, Mentions of Panic Attacks, References to Marvel, Smoking, Social Anxiety, ratings will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is not good with crowds. So he's pretty upset when his friends drag him to a loud, crowded party one night and then ditching him straight away. But  things look up for Jean when somehow he finds Marco, that kid in his grade he's seen around but never really talked to before. And, well, that kind of changes the night for the better. And maybe changes everything else, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Never feel too good in crowds,_  
>  _With folks around, when they're playing_  
>  _The anthems of rape culture loud,_  
>  _Crude and proud creatures baying_  
>  _All I've ever done is hide_  
>  _From our times when you're near me_  
>  Hozier, "To Be Alone"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Never feel too good in crowds,_  
>  _With folks around, when they're playing_  
>  _The anthems of rape culture loud,_  
>  _Crude and proud creatures baying_  
>  _All I've ever done is hide_  
>  _From our times when you're near me_  
>  Hozier, "To Be Alone"

Jean broke through the front door of a house whose owner he didn’t know, gasping the sweet cold air into his lungs in a bought of almost-desperation. The air inside had been stifling, panic-inducing, filled with hazy smoke, the buzz of the loud music, the smell of alcohol and sweaty teenagers as they thrust and danced against one another. He closed the door behind him, avoiding looking at the couple inside pressed against the wall of the corridor, getting a little friskier than just your average make-out session. 

Jean shuddered, bringing his arms up to wrap around himself as he moved away from the door. He just wanted to phone his mother to fetch him and take him home, as lame as that sounded. He sat on the last patio step and pulling his phone out of his pocket, moving to find his mother’s number. He could feel the bass from inside reverberating through the wooden step pressed under him.

“What’s up, Kirschtein, it get too hot in there for you?”

Jean swivelled around at lightning speed, craning his neck up to see someone had been standing against the railing next to the stairs, grinning down at him with a cigarette in hand.

Jean squinted, first to try to make out the face in the dark next to them, then because he couldn’t believe who he was seeing. But he knew those freckles anywhere. “Marco?”

Marco’s smile widened. “The one and only. What’s up?”

Jean stared up at him. “You smoke?”

Marco shrugged, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and blowing it out, slow and deep. “I try not to. But they take the edge off. It’s pretty insane in there, isn’t it?”

Jean nodded hesitantly, internally shuddering as he remembered the scenes playing out inside the house: the thick, sweet smoke from the various pipes being passed around, the numerous and overly-rambunctious drinking games that were being played in almost every room of the house, the loud repetitive music and the many sweaty bodies gyrating against one another in the low light. For someone as socially disinclined as Jean, it had been a nightmare. A panic-inducing nightmare.

He hadn’t planned on coming to the party, of course. This afternoon he had gotten into Eren’s car, Connie in the front seat, fully expecting to be going to the cinema as they had planned earlier that day before maths class. Instead, they had gone to fetch Sasha, Connie’s girlfriend, and pulled up in front of this house, Eren saying he had been invited by an upperclassman. 

He didn’t know where his friends were now. He’d lost them within the first hour of being here, Eren saying he was getting a drink and never returning, and Connie and Sasha slinking off to make-out in some dark corner somewhere, hopefully not as publically as the couple Jean had seen in the corridor.

Now Jean was looking up at Marco, a boy he knew in passing from his biology and English classes, and wonders how Marco of all people would be at a party like this. Jean had always figured that if anyone were a bigger nerd than he was, it would be Marco. Marco and Armin, that is. 

And Marco was _smoking_.

Jean squinted up at Marco. “What are you doing here?”

Marco shrugged, taking a final drag of smoke in before dropping the stub to the floor and gritting it out with the toe of his shoe. “Bertlholt wanted a lift here, to meet some football player he’s been seeing lately, and he didn’t want his parents to know. So I offered to give him a lift.” Marco looked over at Jean. “Your friends ditch you? Do you want a ride home?”

Jean continued to squint at Marco, considering. On one hand, he didn’t know Marco very well. On the other, if he accepted the lift he wouldn’t have to wake up his mom and worry her. Plus Marco seemed nice enough – he was always smiling and offered to help people with stuff at school, and while Jean hadn’t talked to him very often, Marco had always made a point to greet him in the hallways. He was a good guy.

Jean sighed, pulling himself to his feet. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” Jean finally replied, looking up at Marco. The brunette was a few inches taller than Jean, much to his chagrin. Jean didn’t enjoy being shorter than other people, probably one of the reasons he enjoyed Connie and Eren’s company so much.

Marco smiled. His smiles are always so kind, Jean though, before returning his own smile, somewhat hesitantly and not nearly as blinding.

Marco jerked his head back, gesturing for Jean to follow him. “My car’s parked up the road.”

They left the property in silence, moving farther down the street until the music was nothing but a soft pumping in the distance. “You parked really far.” Jean observed, glancing up at Marco besides him.

Marco nodded. “Didn’t want to deal with being parked in or getting a dent.” he grimaced. “I don’t really trust drunk teenagers.” 

Jean scoffed. “Who does?” Marco smiled in reply.

They finally arrived at the car, Jean getting into the passenger side and buckling in next to Marco. Marco had just put the keys into the ignition when Jean’s stomach growled embarrassingly loudly.

Marco started before breaking into a loud laugh. Jean blushed, wrapping his hands around his middle. “Shut up!” he whined in embarrassment, not entirely sure whether he was talking to Marco or his stomach. “I didn’t know I was going to this stupid party, okay? I had been planning to get something to eat at the cinemas.”

Marco grinned. “What, your friends told you you were going to the cinemas and then dragged you here?” Jean nodds, a scowl on his face. “Wow, dick move. Okay, well, you wanna stop by McDonalds quick?”

Jean’s eyes widened in surprise before his eyebrows came down into a frown again, squinting at Marco as he moved out of the parking space into the street. “What are you, some kind of freckled angel? Jesus.”

Marco laughed. “Freckled angel Jesus? Haven’t heard that one before.” He winked at Jean playfully. “Okay well I’m hungry too, so we’re going to McDonalds whether you answer me or not.”

Jean snorted, but didn’t argue, folding his arms over his chest and wiggling further into his seat. Marco turned the heat up as he drove away from the awful party.

They pulled into a McDonalds drive through no less than five minutes later (which wasn’t particularly hard, what with there being a McDonalds within five minute radius of pretty much every building in Trost), both boys ordering a large fries and milkshakes. Jean moved to fish his wallet out of his back pocket, but before he could grab it Marco was already paying for both of them. 

“Dude, what the hell?”

Marco glanced over at Jean, already moving over to the collections window. “What?”

“Why the fuck did you pay for mine?”

Marco shrugged in his seat. “You seemed to have a rough night, man. Just let it go and let my pay for you.”

Jean frowned at Marco’s profile. What was this guy’s deal? He was just about to argue again when Marco looked over at Jean with a dazzling smile on his freckled face, two brown bags in his hands. “Seriously, Jean. Don’t worry about it.” As he passed the bags over to Jean and moved his car out of the drive through, Jean decided to hell with it, if Marco wanted to pay for him he wouldn’t argue.

Marco drove a little ways into the suburbs before he pulled over into a patch of dirt overlooking the river that ran through their neighbourhood. It was dark out, but Jean could see the water flowing languishingly by below them thanks to the few street lights on either side of the river bank. The view wasn’t overtly pretty, but it was nice. Better than a McDonalds parking lot, at least.

Wordlessly Marco took one of the bags from Jean’s lap, and for a while there was nothing to be heard except for the rustling of bags and the soft ribbit of frogs in the distance as both boys quietly nibbled on fries and looked out at the water before them.

Well, Marco looked at the water. Jean was looking at Marco for the most part, stealing glances at him as often as possible. He still couldn’t figure out Marco’s deal. People weren’t this nice without some sort of motivator behind their actions, right? Like Jean’s mother was nice to Jean, of course, but that’s because she was his mother - it was kind of in the manual, right up there with make sure your child is kept well fed and out of harm’s way. The way Jean figured it, Marco didn’t have a feasible reason to be nice to Jean. Jean had never done anything awful to Marco at school, but he wasn’t really friendly either. They were just strangers that knew each other’s names.

While he thought this he was able to take in more of Marco’s appearance. He’d never really thought about it much before, but Marco was attractive. Like, boy attractive, not the same sort of attractive as, say, Mikasa. He had a really strong, square jaw line and a ski-slope nose; his skin tanned with a dusting of what must be thousands of freckles – not the pale kind that looked like they were under his skin, but the dark sun-kissed kind of freckles that looked like they had been drawn on with a brown permanent marker. His eyes where this weird shade of grey-brown, like coffee with just not enough milk added, and the eyelashes framing those eyes were dark and thick, making him appear to be wearing eyeliner.

Jean might have been looking at Marco for a little too long, because suddenly those brown eyes met Jean’s, a blush dusted over his freckled cheeks. Jean felt a flush coming up over his own cheeks and ears, mortified at being caught in the act. He wanted to break his gaze away and pretend he hadn’t been looking, but it was too late for that. All he could do was keep eye contact wordlessly, helplessly, trying desperately to think of something to say or do.

A slow, shy smile broke over Marco’s face. “Are you just going to keep staring at me?”

Jean blinked, biting the inside of his lip nervously. “I didn’t mean to stare.” he replied lamely.

Marco gave a short, somewhat nervous laugh. “You mean you didn’t mean to get caught?”

They were still maintaining eye contact. Oh good Lord this was awkward. “Yeah, kind of.”

The tentative smile on Marco’s face twitched into a grin. “Are you going to stop staring at me any time soon?”

Jean shook his head slightly, a millimetre to either side. “Not until you do.”

Marco nodded, just as small as Jean’s movement had been. “Let’s go at the same time, okay? 1... 2... 3.”

They broke eye contact with an almost audible snap, both moving to hide their bright red faces from one another - Jean’s face in his hands and Marco’s against the steering wheel. It was quiet for a moment, both boys soaking up their mortification, before Marco started giggling.

Jean cracked a gap between his fingers to look at the other boy in horror and confusion, the high-pitched, almost hysterical laughter so unexpected. Marco had his forehead against the top of the wheel, his hands clutching the sides so hard his knuckles – also covered in freckles, Jean noted – whitening with how hard his grip was. 

Jean continued to watch as Marco’s giggles turned to full on hysterics, tears streaming from the corners of his closed eyes. Slowly Jean found his hands falling from his face to rest on the take-out bag still in his lap, watching Marco is dumb fascination. 

“Dude, you’re so fucking weird.”

Jean was surprised at his own voice, low and whispered. He hadn’t even meant to speak, and for a moment he hoped he had spoken low enough that Marco hadn’t heard him. But he had. Marco stopped laughing, whipping at his closed eyes with his shoulders still shaking. “Sorry. You’re just so much c- ... _weirder_ than I expected you to be.” Marco finished whipping at his eyes and grinned at Jean. “You’re a freaking weirdo.”

Jean scoffed, taking a slow draw from his drink. “You obviously didn’t expect much then. I’m the biggest weirdo there is. I can’t even handle a fucking high school party without almost having a panic attack. I’m a fucking loser.”

Jean meant it as a joke, but it sounded a lot harsher than he meant it, even to his ears. Marco had grown serious, his laughter completely gone. “Jean. At least you weren’t provoked to smoking out of stress. I...” Marco stopped, looking down at his hands. Evidently he decided not to say whatever he had been planning to, as with a shake of his head he looked back a Jean and tentatively placed a hand on his knee. “You’re not a loser, Jean. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Jean’s mouth hung open as he stared at Marco. Once again he had no idea what to do or say. Finally his eyes slowly drifted from Marco’s face to his hand on his knee, noticing how the colour of Marco’s skin looked so nice against the red demin of his jeans. It was a strange thought, but he let it be, as it gave him the courage to look back up at Marco. Marco was smiling gently at him, and Jean returned the smile. “Thanks, Marco.” he said quietly.

Marco’s smile grew a little larger, and he gently squeezed Jean’s knee before pulling his hand away, leaning back into his seat to eat one of the forgotten chips in his bag. “Just don’t forget it, Jean.”

Jean didn’t think he ever would.

* * *

They ate the rest of their cold chips and melting milkshake with lighter conversation flowing between the two of them. Jean was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Marco – Jean was, by all accounts, not a people person, and he found it very hard to get along with most people. But Marco was just easy to talk to, laughing at almost anything and answering questions with the kind of enthusiasm one might expect from a puppy. It was a surprise to both of them when they realised they had been sitting in the car for over an hour, and it was already getting to 1am. Marco kicked the car into gear and took Jean’s directions to get to his house. They were there just a bit after 1am, and Jean was glad to see the front light had been left on for him. Jean smiled at Marco as he unclipped his seatbelt.

“Thanks, Marco.” he said quietly.

Marco smiled. “No problem, couldn’t just leave you at the party, after all. I’m too much of a good person.”

Jean laughed. “Yeah, that’s for sure. But, dude, seriously. You made a shitty night way better than I ever would have expected.” He avoided Marco’s gaze, embarrassed at the gushy shit coming out of his mouth.

“Same for me, Jean.” Marco responded quietly, and Jean finally looked up at him. There was a softness in Marco’s eyes as he looked at him that made Jean’s eyes widen a fraction. He’d never had anyone look at him like that before. He didn’t know what the look meant, but he tried to brush it away, opening his car door.

“Well, thanks again, Marco. I’ll... See you at school Monday?”

Marco nodded. “Yeah! Monday. See you then.”

Jean smiled as he got out of the car, empty McDonalds bag in hand. “Night, Marco.”

“Night, Jean.”

Jean walked up to his front door and let himself in as quietly as possible, waving to Marco as he entered his house. Marco waved back, and even after Jean had closed the door Marco sat there for a moment longer, his hand still partially in the air, that same soft look in his eyes and a gently smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My innards turn,_  
>  _Your eyes, they roll._  
>  _I’ll be there to take the fall_  
>  _I can feel it now, oh no, oh no_  
>  _Same old story since day one,_  
>  _But I’ve got no place to run_  
>  _I can see it now, oh no, oh no_  
>  Bad Suns, "Cardiac Arrest"

Marco was smiling all the way home.

In fact he was still smiling when he got home, while he brushed his teeth, while he got dressed and crawled into bed. The night had gone way better than expected. It had been a rocky start, being at that party with no one to talk to and no courage to do what he had gone there to do...

Well, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. It had all started that afternoon when he was packing books out of his locker and into his bag for the weekend. Bertl had come up to Marco, sweating nervously (as he was apt to do in most situations), explaining to Marco that there was a football player he was interested in and there was a party that night that the boy had invited Bertl to and – Bertl knew this was a long shot but – would Marco consider giving him a lift there?

Marco had shifted around nervously at the request. He was a nice guy, always happy to help those in need and give his friends lifts, being one of the only people in his friend group that owned a car. And generally he would go ahead and say yes, but today he hesitated because, well. House parties weren’t really something he would ever want to touch with a ten-foot pole. He was about to let Bertl down nicely when a locker thundered open near him.

He swung around, seeing Eren, the boy that owned a locker two down from him, talking animatedly to his friend Connie. Marco didn’t know them well, but he knew they were friends with Jean. They were talking loud enough that Marco could hear everything they were saying clearly.

Eren: “Look, dude, this party is going to be fucking epic. How often are we going to get invited to shit like this? We have to go.”

Connie: “I know, man. I’m totally up for it, but have you forgotten Jean?” (Marco’s ears pricked up at the name) “We’ve already got plans with him tonight, and he’s never going to agree to going to a party like this – you know he can’t do crowds.”

Eren: “Don’t worry about Jean. We’ll fetch him like planned and bring him along. Once he gets there he’ll see how epic it is and fall to his knees in thanks for us dragging his sorry ass along.”

Connie: “I don’t know, man...”

Eren’s locker door slammed closed as loudly as he had pulled it open, and the two boys had moved along the corridor until their conversation was lost to Marco’s ears. It didn’t matter, though; he had learnt what he needed to know: Jean was going to be at this party.

Marco looked over at Bertl again, who had been standing around next to him awkwardly waiting for a reply. Marco smiled at him. “So, what time you want to be there?”

* * *

Marco didn’t really know when his crush on Jean had started. He first realized its existence in the second semester of 10th grade, when one day he had noticed himself looking over at Jean’s blonde undercut every five seconds, his heart doing a weird flip thing whenever he did. He didn’t know how or why the crush had manifested either, but here he was two years later, in his last year of high school, with a painful crush on a boy he had never even had so much as a conversation with. Marco knew his time was short, since for all he knew Jean could be planning to go to university somewhere across the country, and this party was the perfect opportunity to finally talk to him.

Well... It would be the perfect opportunity, if it weren’t for the fact that Marco _hated_ parties. 

It wasn’t that Marco disliked people – he was amazing with people. He loved people and people loved him. And it wasn’t the loud music or the heat, either. It was just, well. Parties were chaos, and Marco hated chaos. He needed straight lines, rules, discipline, and high school parties were the exact opposite of that. And that’s how Marco had ended up pulling out his long-forgotten pack of smokes from under his tissue box in the first drawer of his bedside table (he’d gotten them from his cousin Ymir a few months back, and while he didn’t enjoy smoking or particularly condone it, he had to admit that they relaxed him) and tucking them into his pocket just in case the night didn’t go as planned. He imagined situations in which he finally worked up the courage to confess to Jean and was thoroughly rejected by him in a room full of his peers, becoming the laughing stock of the school... By the time he and Bertl had pulled up a block away from the party he was sweating just as much as Bertl was.

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived just after 10pm (Bertl hadn’t wanted to leave until after his parents were asleep), and Marco had had a plan. Or, that is to say, he had a goal. He didn’t really know how exactly he would accomplish this goal, but he wanted, before the night ended, to find Jean and confess to him. Simple as that.

An hour later and Marco was still outside, his cigarette pack considerably lighter than it had been when he first arrived. He had almost given up on the whole night and was about to go home when the door behind him opened. Expecting another drunk couple to fall through the door, Marco had been shocked into silence when none other than Jean Kirschtein appeared from the darkness, his arms folded over his stomach as if he were in pain.

The rest of the night went by in a flash of nerves and excitement for Marco. Being so close to Jean was a new experience for him, but he was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to talk to the other boy. A couple of times in the night Marco had debated going through with his plan of confessing to Jean, but each time he decided against it. They had been able to talk so easily that Marco started to harbour the hope that he and Jean could become friends. Because hell, being friends was a lot better than harbouring a crush on an almost-stranger - or even worse, being rejected. So he chose the safe option.

Friends. He could do that, right? Marco fell asleep that night dreaming of kisses on the bank of Trost River, with the soundtrack of frogs and the taste of McDonalds’ milkshakes.

* * *

The rest of the weekend saw Marco doing chores, working on essays, and aimlessly spending time on the internet. Finally Monday morning came around and Marco’s heart beat a little faster when he realised the first lesson of the day would be English, one of the two classes he had with Jean.

He walked into class and went straight to his desk, wondering if anything would be different today. He really hoped Jean would talk to him today, but he knew there was a high possibility that Jean might not talk to him at all – he could just pretend that night had never happened and not give Marco the time of day. Marco was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he ducked down to pull books out of his bag, thinking about this possibility when he heard a light cough above him.

Marco looked up to see Jean on the other side of the desk, a sheepish grin on his angular face. “Hey.”

Marco straightened up, smiling warmly at his classmate. “Hey! How’re you?”

Jean shrugged. “Can’t complain. Hey, do you mind if I sit here?” Jean gestured at the empty space next to Marco.

 _Oh hell yes please sit here_ , Marco almost wanted to scream, but he stopped himself, biting his bottom lip. “I’d love it if you sat here but it’s Christa’s seat...”

Jean’s smirk became a full on smile as he hitched his bag off of his shoulder and put it on the floor, falling into the seat next to Marco. “Ok, great, ‘cause Christa already agreed to swap with me.”

Marco raised his eyebrows and looked over to Jean’s usual desk next to Eren. Sure enough, he could see the little blonde already sitting there. As if feeling his eyes on her, she turned to make eye contact with Marco, giving him a bright smile and an inconspicuous wink, causing Marco to blush. Christa was one of the few people that knew about Marco’s crush.

Marco turned back to Jean. “As long as she’s fine with it I’m happy.”

Jean had by now pulled his English books onto the desk. “Good. Thanks, man. Honestly, I’m just fucking pissed with Eren right now and would rather keep as far from him as possible.”

Marco felt conflicted (as he was finding he very often felt when it came to Jean), half extremely happy that Jean came to spend time with him, and half concerned for his friendship with Eren. “Is this about Friday?”

Jean nodded, pulling a pen out from somewhere and placing it on top of his notebook. “Yeah. He’s a dick for dragging me to a party I didn’t know about and then deserting me there. Connie and Sasha too.” Jean noticed the look of concern cross over Marco’s face and barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Freckles, I’ll forgive them eventually. They just need to work for my forgiveness.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever pissed you off. And Freckles? Really? Not very original.”

Jean scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was being graded on _originality_.” Jean’s words dripped with sarcasm. “I’ll come up with something, Freckles, just you wait.”

Their teacher finally strode into the room. She glanced between Jean and Christa, shrugged, and began the lesson. Marco was glad – if they’d tried to move seats in their other shared class, Biology, their teacher Mr. Ackerman might have skinned them.

“Alright class, we’re reading Macbeth today.” Ms. Ral said, picking up her book from her desk and opening it at the bookmark. “Act 3, Scene 2. Who’s going to read for us today?” Ms. Ral looked up at her class, her eyes coming to rest on Marco’s desk, then glancing at Christa. “Christa, you’ll be Lady Macbeth, Jean the servant and Marco our Macbeth. Alright, when you’re ready.”

Jean groaned quietly next to Marco, but Marco only grinned. He might get teased for it, but he actually enjoyed reading out loud and public speaking. It wasn’t the first time he and Christa would be reading lines for the Macbeth couple.

“ _Is Banquo gone from court?_ ” Christa’s clear voice rang out from across the room.

“ _A-ay, madam, but returns again tonight._ ” Jean’s voice was not nearly as clear as Christa – he spoke with a stutter, uncertain and quiet. Marco tried to think if he’d ever heard Jean read through this year and realised he hadn’t. He wondered for a moment how he had gone for so long without being picked to read yet.

After another line Jean’s servant left the scene, and then Christa had 9 lines before Marco had his turn to speak:

“ _We have scorched the snake, not killed it._  
_She’ll close and be herself whilst our poor malice_  
_Remains in danger of her former tooth..._ ”

He spoke his lines, his voice ringing clear and loud cross the room. When he was done and Christa started up her lines again, Marco was proud of the fact that he hadn’t stammered over any of his lines. 

“ _Come on, gentle my lord,_  
_Sleek o'er your rugged looks. Be bright and jovial_  
_Among your guests tonight._ ”

When Christa had finished her lines Ms. Ral broke in and started to discuss what had just been read to the class. Marco listened half-heartedly, already understanding the lines quiet well, and glanced over at Jean, surprised to see him writing something. 

Jean glanced up and Marco and, noticing him looking, smirked and moved the book so that Marco could see what had been written more clearly.

_Hey, maybe your nickname should be Shakespeare, you big nerd._

Marco scoffed silently, reaching over to reply under Jean’s messy scrawl.

_That’s almost as unoriginal as Freckles, you loser._

Jean scowled at Marco and Marco grinned in return, turning back to his book to be ready for his next lines. 

When he glanced over at Jean again the next time Ms. Ral took over the lesson, he noticed Jean had written a longer message than before. Marco leaned in to read it and Jean turned away from him, his face resting on the heel of his hand as he stared at Ms. Ral, obviously not taking any of her words in.

 _So, hey, I’m probably going to still be mad at Eren and Connie for most of the day, so do you mind if I spend lunch period with you?_  
_Totally understand if I’m being a pain though._

Marco suppressed a smile, his heartbeat picking up at the idea of spending more time with Jean. Quickly he wrote out his reply, forcing himself to write slowly so that his words would actually be legible.

 _I’d love to have lunch with you, although I think you need to make up with your friends at some point._  
_Wanna go off school grounds for food? I drove my car in to school today._

He pushed the notebook back towards Jean and watched him as he read. Jean scanned the words quickly, and the way his face lit up made Marco want to reach over and hug him, he was being so cute. Jean quickly scrawled out a reply and pushed the book towards Marco.

Yes moooom, I’ll make up with them soon, chill.  
And oh my god yes I could kill a man for sushi right now, you have no idea.

Marco grinned down at the notebook. He was about to write out a reply when a small cough came from in front of the class. Marco’s head swivelled up immediately to see Ms. Ral’s gaze fixed on him.

“Marco, it’s your turn to read again.” she smiled at him. Marco felt his cheeks heat up, mortified at being caught not paying attention but gratified that she didn’t reprimand him. He liked Ms. Ral a lot and didn’t want to do anything to upset her.

Looking down at him book again, he cleared his throat and began to read, trying to ignore the way Jean was chocking back laughter besides him. 

* * *

Marco had given Jean directions for how to find his car in the school parking lot, and was already waiting there for him when break started. He was there for less than a minute when Jean came jogging out of the school entrance, his bag over one shoulder and a smirk on his face. 

“Yo, Taxi Man.” he called to Marco as he approached.

Marco raised his eyebrows, moving towards the driver’s side of the car and pulling his keys from his back pocket. “Jean, if you call me Taxi Man, so help me God I will make you pay a fair every time you get into this car.”

Jean laughed, coming to stand at the passenger’s side. “Yeah, I didn’t think that nickname would go down well.” He stuck a tongue out at Marco. “Just wanted to see how you’d react, really.”

Marco rolled his eyes, finally clicking the doors unlocked. They both climbed in, throwing their bags onto the back seat. “ So where’s a sushi place nearby?” Marco asked, putting his key into the ignition.

Jean thought for a moment. “I think there’s a good place in East Trost Mall. That isn’t too far away, is it?”

Marco contemplated the question. “That’s like 5 minutes away. So we’d only have –” he glanced at the car clock “- half an hour to eat? That should be enough time, right?”

Jean shrugged as Marco reversed out of the parking lot.. “Well Professor Zoe is absent today so I have a free period after break, I don’t really care about being late back.”

Marco glanced at Jean in surprise. “What, they’re absent too? Mr. Smith is also absent, I have subs for his class right after break too.”

Jean grinned at Marco. “Great, so we don’t have to be back until 4th period!”

Marco bit his lip. The way their school worked, when it came to seniors going off-campus during lunch hours, they had to give a school-issued card to the security guard at the gate when they left, and get it back when they returned. The cards had the student’s information, like their names, phone numbers and a small timetable for the year. If the student was late back they would get a detention or community service. Marco wanted to try and get extra time for himself and Jean, but he would need to put his charm to the test to achieve it.

When he pulled up at the gate he rolled down the window to great the guard on duty. He sighed a sigh of relief when he saw the guard walking up to him was Mr. Pixis and not Mr. Shadis – Pixis was a nice guy, whereas Shadis took his work very seriously. 

Pixis sauntered up to the car with a smile on his face. “Ah, Marco, my boy. Off to lunch?”

Marco gave his best smile to the man. “Yes sir! Here’s my card.” he pulled his card out of the little compartment under his rear view mirror, holding it out to Pixis. But at the last moment he pulled it back slightly. “Oh, sir, I was wondering...”

Pixis arched an eyebrow, leaning on the side of Marco’s car, his elbow on the window ledge. “Hm?”

“Well, sir, Jean and I both have substitution classes after break. Would it be at all possible for us to arrive after 3rd period bell?”

Pixis squinted slightly at Marco, then moved to look at Jean. “Give me both your cards.” he said gruffly.

Wearily, Marco handed his over, Jean leaning over him to pass his to the security guard as well. Pixis took both and squinted down at them for a moment, silent.

“You have Physics with Professor Zoe, boy?” Pixis finally asked, lifting his bright eyes to meet Jean’s.

“Ah! yes, sir!” Jean spluttered out. Marco tried to keep a straight face and not laugh at how flustered the other boy sounded. 

“And I take it you have Business Economics with Mr. Smith, Mr. Bodt?”

Marco nodded. “Yes sir. He’s a wonderful teacher.”

Pixis gave a huff of confirmation, still glaring down at the cards. Finally his head snapped up, sliding the cards into his pocket. “Well then! I don’t see a problem here. I’ll see you boys 5 minutes before 4th period, you hear me?”

Marco gave the man a salute, a huge grin on his face. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

Pixis huffed, rolling his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face. “Alright, alright, don’t overdo it, kid.” he pushed off the side of Marco’s car and moved to open the gate for them, Marco rolling his window back up.

He glanced over at Jean with a smile on his face. Jean met his eyes with a small smirk on his face, shaking his head.

“What?” Marco asked, throwing one last wave at Pixis as he left the school grounds.

Jean scoffed. “Marco, I hope you never go evil because you could seriously get away with murder with those super powers of yours.”

Marco barked out a laugh. “What?” he asked again, more amused than anything.

“You could talk your way out of a plastic bag! Where the fuck did you learn your social skills from?”

Marco shrugged. “Come on, Pixis is an easy going guy. If we’d been faced with Shadis we would have been screwed.”

Jean shook his head, leaning into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “I doubt it. It probably would have been harder – and scarier – but I bet you could have convinced him.” Marco glanced over at Jean again to see him still watching him. “I bet you could convince people to do anything you want.”

Marco scoffed, shaking the words off as he focused on the road. _I wouldn’t be able to convince you to like me though_ , he thought sadly, but pushed the thought away. 

He was going to keep pushing those thoughts away for as long as possible in the hopes of just enjoy Jean’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'm going to attempt to update one a week or every 2nd week, but don't hold me to it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After all I knew it had to be_  
>  _Something to do with you_  
>  _I really don’t mind what happens now and then_  
>  _As long as you’ll be my friend at the end_  
>  3 Doors Down, "Kryptonite"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start this off by saying that I'm sorry it took 2 weeks and a day to post this, but I had a big deadline and it's also really hard to write when there's powercuts pretty much every second day. So I guess this fic might be updated every two weeks on a Tuesday from now on instead of every week - but I'll try to keep it at every week.
> 
> Also, another apology for Eren in this chapter - he'll get a chance to explain himself later.

They pull up to the school gate ten minutes before 4th period. Jean watches as Pixis saunters over to the car and hands Marco their access cards with a twinkle in his eye. Jean’s eyes move to look at Marco again, as he had been for most of their time together, and takes in the sight of Marco smiling genuinely up at Pixis.

Jean can’t understand how someone could smile like that all the time and actually mean it. All day he’s been trying to figure out if there was anything bad about Marco, giving him shitty nicknames to see how he’d react and studying his smiles to find even a hint of falseness there, but... The dude was a goddamn saint, and Jean couldn’t help finding himself wanting to spend more and more time with him. Fuck Eren and Connie, Marco would be a way better friend than either of them had ever been.

Jean frowned at himself. Okay, maybe he was being a little harsh on his friends. Sure, Eren was a jerk and Connie was a bit of a pothead, but Jean did consider them good friends. He wasn’t actually that pissed off at them, and was planning to talk to them again before the end of the day. 

Marco had, by this time, pulled into his parking spot and was unclipping his seat belt. Jean did the same, hurriedly pushing himself out of his thoughts, grabbing his bag off the back seat and getting out of the car at the same time as Marco.

“Thanks for spending lunch with me, Marco.” Jean grinned at him from across the bonnet as they both stepped away from the car.

Marco beamed at him. “No problem. We should do it again some time?”

Jean frowned at how Marco phrased the sentence as a question, but shrugged it off. “Yeah, please! Though I feel bad, what do you usually do for lunch?”

Marco held the front door open for Jean, who rolled his eyes as he walked though into the school. “Oh, usually just have lunch in the cafeteria with Christa and Bertl, although Bertl was spending today’s lunch period with his new boyfriend, apparently.”

Jean nodded, walking towards his next class. “Who’s his boyfriend?”

Marco squinted at the corridor before him. “Uh, I don’t know him personally, but I think his name is Reiner?”

Jean gawked at Marco. “What? Reiner’s gay?”

Reiner Braun was one of the stars of the school’s (admittedly awful) football team. Jean never would have pegged the dude – the size of a house and made out of pure muscle – to be gay. But hey, Jean had been told on a number of occasions that his gay-dar sucked ass (no pun intended), and honestly he didn’t really give a shit for whatever kind of genitalia someone preferred. It really wasn’t his business.

Marco shrugged. “I suppose he is.”

Jean nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. Okay.”

It looked like Marco was about to ask something when the bell went off, interrupting him. Jean grinned at him “See you 5th period?”

Marco smiled back, the same big smile he’d been beaming most of the day. “Yeah. Enjoy French.”

“Enjoy Maths.”

Marco pulled a face, turning away. Jean was still laughing when he entered his classroom.

* * *

When 6th period ended Jean made his way over to Eren’s locker straight after the bell rang. He had already talked to Connie in French class, who apologised profusely (in stunted French, as there was a rule set by Mr. Bozado that as soon as you entered his class, you spoke French or you got detention) for dragging Jean to a party he obviously wouldn’t have wanted to be at and proceeding to ditch him at said party. Jean brushed off the apology and clapped Connie on the shoulder, happily forgiving him and quickly moving on to answering the worksheet they were paired up for.

Jean walked up to Eren and leaned against the locker next to his, his arms folded over his chest.

“Jaeger.”

Eren glanced up, cocking an eyebrow before turning back to his locker. “Oh, so you’re talking again, Kirschtein?”

Jean sighed. “That depends on what you say.”

Eren scoffed, “I have nothing to say. If you think I’m apologising for anything you’re fucking wrong.”

Jean laughed bitterly. “Like you’ve ever apologised for shit, Jaeger.”

“Just go back to Bodt then, why don’t you? I bet the wimp apologises to ants for standing on them. I bet you fucking love being around a push over like him.”

Jean bristled. “The fuck does this have to do with Marco?”

Eren threw a book into his locker, causing a load metallic bang as it hit the inside wall. “Just noticed you’ve latched yourself to him most of today. How’d that even happen? Is he that much of a push over that you were able to make him help you ignore your friends for the whole fucking day?”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “I only ignore my friends when they act like fucking assholes and ignored _me_ when they forced me to go to a party when they _know_ I have social anxiety and can’t fucking handle crowds, and then _abandoning me_ at said party, where I don’t know anyone else.” Jean wasn’t shouting – he was too conscious of the people around them, not wanting to make a scene and stand out – so instead he hissed the words at Eren, putting as much venom into his words as a snake bite.

Eren finally turned away from his locker, leaning in to Jean, his turquoise eyes dark with rage, talking louder than Jean but thankfully not shouting. “Well fucking _sorry_ for trying to take you to have some fucking fun instead of just going to see a shitty movie like we always fucking do. Sorry you’re such a _fucking_ loser that can’t handle a small crowd and some alcohol.” Eren banged his locker door closed loudly, leaning back away from Jean with his voice rising higher, “On second thought, maybe you and Bodt really should stick to each other then, he’s just as much of a worthless social-freak as you are.”

Jean was about to make a comeback (not entirely sure if he was going to shout at Eren or punch him, but judging by the way his hands had clenched into fists it was probably the latter option), when he noticed the tall figure standing two lockers down from Eren. The boy with a dorky middle parting and tanned, freckled skin, standing stone still as he stared at the locker before him, the hands clenched on the straps of his bag turning white. 

Without even thinking Jean pushed past Eren, immediately going over to the other boy. He was filled with dread. Every word Eren had said in the past few moments swam in his head – but instead of focusing on what had been said about himself, all he could think about was what had been said about Marco. Did Marco hear everything? Would he blame what Eren said on Jean and decide not to talk to him anymore? Jean’s heart clenched at the idea – he’d only just began to get to know Marco, how could he lose this person’s company before they’d even become proper friends?

“Marco?”

Marco’s staring into his locker vacantly, but at Jean’s voice he slowly turns to look at him. Immediately any hope that Marco might not have heard the whole conversation leaves Jean, as he sees his face fully. Marco’s eyes, usually so full of kindness, were dark with anger, his eyebrows arched in a way that was even angrier than a frown. Marco moved slowly, his eyes moving from Jean to stare over his shoulder (presumably at Eren), before moving to close his locker door and grabbing Jean’s wrist.

“Marco? I-”

Before Jean can say any more he’s being pulled away by Marco, down the corridor in the opposite direction from Eren. Jean could only follow in stunned silence as Marco dragged him down the emptying halls. He still doesn't know Marco very well, of course, but he had been in a few classes with the guy all trough high school and had never seen him like this, couldn't even picture the guy angry until the look was branded into his cornea, still seeing the look in his eyes from moments ago even if he was currently staring at his back. Finally Marco broke the silence between them.

"You need a lift home, right?"

When Jean didn't reply straight away Marco looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes not nearly as fiery as before. Jean gulped, but nodded. "Um, yeah. But I need to get my shit out my locker first."

Marco nodded, turning in the direction of Jean's locker. Jean didn't question how he knew where to go.

They stopped in the empty corridor - most students already on their way home or starting club activities - Jean moving to open his locker. They stood in silence, Jean slowly packing his books into his bag while Marco stood behind him. Finally he glanced up at Marco. 

"Marco. I'm really so-"

Marco interrupted him quickly. "If you're about to apologize for what Eren said, don't."

"I-" Jean frowned. "What? But I need to, he's a complete asshole, he shouldn't have said those things about you."

Marco stared at Jean for a long moment. "You think I'm upset because of what he said about _me_?"

Confusion washed over Jean. "Well, um. Why else would you be angry?"

Marco barked out a laugh - actually laughed! - before looking at Jean incredulously. "Seriously, Jean? All that shit he was saying about you? How could I not be angry? How on earth was that guy actually your _friend_?"

Jean's mouth fell open. Marco had been angry, not because Eren had called him a push over and a pansy, but because of what Eren had said about _Jean_?

Marco nodded his head towards Jean's locker. "You got everything you need?"

Jean jumped, focusing back on the task of pushing books into his backpack. He pulled the bag onto one shoulder and closed the locker door.

They walked towards Marco's car in silence for a few moments, until finally Jean couldn't hold his curiosity anymore. "Why are so upset about what Eren said about me?"

Marco raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Aren't you upset? Did you hear what he said to you?"

Jean shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, going after my anxiety was a low-blow even for Eren, but that's just how he is. He's hot-headed and says a lot of stupid shit." Jean glanced at Marco from the corner of his eye. "But why were you so upset about what he said about me, when he said stuff about you, too?"

Marco was quiet for a moment, then sighed. A hand moved up t run through his neat, dark hair, ruffling it up a bit. "I don't like hearing people say shit about the people I'm friends with." He hesitated for a moment before glancing over at a Jean, his lower lip worried between his teeth. "We are friends, right, Jean?"

Jean stared up at him, his mouth falling open again. Without even noticing it he had stopped in the corridor, Marco a few steps in front of him, and probably wouldn't have moved for a while more if it wasn't for how Marco's expression was growing with more and more concern. 

"I- Yes! Of course we're friends, Marco! Jesus, you think I was just hanging out with you so I could get a lift to a sushi place?" He closed the gap between them and lightly punched Marco on the arm. "We already established that you're not a taxi driver, man."

The worry fell off of Marco's face as he laughed. Jean couldn't help laughing with him.

* * *

The incident with Eren was soon forgotten as the two drove towards Jean's house, chatting comfortably. Jean was forever surprised at how easy it was to be around Marco, how quickly they had become friends.

Jean and Eren had been friends from almost-birth, drawn together by their mothers: both single women with little boys they had no idea how to look after, the two women had met in the baby isle of a large supermarket, both stumped over which brand of diaper was better in terms of comfort and cost. 

With their birthdays only a week apart, Eren and Jean often had shared birthday parties when growing up. Which suited Jean just fine, since the only friend he actually had was Eren, so being able to share a birthday and just have all of Eren’s friends over was easier than any alternative.

It was 5th grade when Jean first met Connie. Jean had been standing near the school entrance, alone because Eren had been kept in during break for punching some kid in the nose, when Connie had barrelled head-first into Jean, knocking both of them over onto hard tarmac. Connie had immediately jumped back up and helped Jean to his feet, laughing as he apologised. Jean had shook him off and walked away, but the next day Connie had found him during break, offering him half a peanut butter sandwich and his name, and from then on they had been friends, although somewhat begrudgingly on Jean’s part.

Now it seemed like Marco had made his third friend – well, real friend. Obviously he had people he smiled at in the corridors, people he went out with as a group with Connie, Sasha and Eren. And, yeah, Sasha and Eren’s step-sister Mikasa were probably his friends too, but it’s not the same thing. Jean defined friendship as the ability to be around some for long periods of time, alone, and feeling comfortable that way. And beings alone with Marco was the most comfortable he had ever felt in another person’s company.

“You know,” Jean said after a measure of comfortable silence, “I have another nickname for you.”

Marco let out a soft sigh, resigning himself to his fate. “Yeah? What is it now?”

Jean grinned, enjoying Marco’s obvious reluctance to his nickname game. “I think you’ll like this one. Captain America.”

Marco barked out a laugh. “Captain America? _Why_?”

Jean laughed with Marco. “It suits you perfectly, man! Come on, you’re like too nice to function, would probably run to save a person without a moment’s hesitation, and you’re more angry about what someone says about another person than what they say about you. You’re totally Captain America.”

Marco shook his head, a smile on his face and his cheeks definitely a shade more flushed than a moment ago. “Really, though? I think Mr. Smith looks more like Captain America.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, if we’re going on faces alone. So you’re just freckled Captain America.”

Jean glanced over at Marco again to see him blushing. Jean grinned at how easy it was to fluster the freckled boy – it was quickly becoming one of his favourite pass times. Marco tried to change the line of topic slightly, and Jean let him, as Marco turned into Jean’s street. “Isn’t the latest Avengers film supposed to come out soon? What is it, Name of Ultron? Game of Ultron?”

Jean laughed. “How can you have the Ultron part down but not the easiest part of the title? It’s Age of Ultron, you dork. And yeah, it’s been out for a while actually. I was going to see it last Friday.”

Marco nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, so that was the film you were going to see.”

Jean shrugged. “Yeah. No big deal though, I can always go see it some other time.” Jean was struck with a brilliant idea just as they pulled up in front of his house. He turned in his seat, grinning widely at Marco. “Dude, do you want to see Age of Ultron with me? We could go Friday.”

Marco had also turned to look at Jean. He smiled, a smile half way between excitement and... nervousness? Reluctance? Jean couldn’t really tell, but before he could start rambling about how they didn’t have to and that it was a stupid idea, Marco was already saying yes, the smile becoming more sure of itself.

Jean beamed at Marco, slightly relieved and very excited. “Okay, cool! I’ll see you tomorrow then, okay?” He moved to open the door.

“Hey, Jean?” Just as he had his foot out the door, Marco stopped him. Jean shot Marco a quizzical look over his shoulder, causing Marco to shrug in reply. “Um. Can I get your number?” he asked with a small blush, looking at Jean’s bag instead of his face.

Jean immediately brightened. “Yeah, of course!” He scooted his bag over slightly and pulled his phone out, but when he had it in his hands and pressed the home button nothing happened. 

“Fuck.” he scowled at the phone, “it’s dead.” Jean looked up at Marco. “Okay, take my number and message me?”

Marco nodded and added the contact to his phone as Jean recited it for him. Jean grinned at him. “Okay, I’m expecting to see a message when I get this piece of shit working again, right? Don’t slack on me here, Captain.”

Marco rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his lips none-the-less. “Yes, sir. Now go already.”

Jean stuck his tongue out, already on the lawn and holding the door as he leaned in. “See you in English tomorrow, yeah?”

Marco smiled. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What's the problem baby_  
>  _What's the problem? I don't know_  
>  _Well maybe I'm in love (love)_  
>  _Think about it every time_  
>  _I think about it_  
>  _Can't stop thinking 'bout it_  
>  Counting Crows, "Accidentally in Love"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm proud of myself for finishing this in time to keep to the once every 1 or 2 weeks schedule - there was a moment in the middle of writing this where I didn't know if the chapter would ever be finished. Surprisingly it's the longest chapter so far. This one has less focus on dialogue than the previous chapters. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh, by the way, this chapter includes Jean and Marco's little outing to see Age of Ultron. But don't worry, I haven't included any spoilers from the film.

Marco got home a few minutes after dropping Jean off, a smile plastered on his face. He was still a little upset about Jean's confrontation with Eren, but it was a small bump in his otherwise amazing day.

He walked into his room and put his backpack on the floor next to his desk, toeing his shoes off in the process. He fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it to see the new contact on his phone, saved under the name **The Loser <3**. Marco was moving to send a message to the number when his phone started ringing in his hand, startling him.

Marco groaned at the name on his phone. Ymir. He knew he wouldn’t be able to put her off for long, so with a resigned sigh Marco swipes the screen to answer her call, bringing the phone up to his ear. 

“Yo, Mar-man, how’s it?”

Marco groaned. “What do you want, Ymir?”

There was a clicking sound from across the line, some sort of irritated tongue-click or a ball point pen, Marco couldn’t really tell. “Do you have to be so rude to your favourite cousin? I’m hurt!” Marco rolled his eyes, deciding not to reply. After a moment Ymir huffed. “Fine, I’ll get down to the point. Christa tells me Jean sat next to you in English today.”

Marco closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. He should have expected this. “Yeah, that happened.”

Ymir groaned loudly into his ear. “Come on, Bodt, mama needs some freaking _details_ over here!”

Marco pressed his index finger and thumb over his eyelids, massaging the bridge of his nose. For all his resignation at talking to his cousin, a small smile was still tugging at his lips. He didn’t want to take to Ymir, but he did want to talk about Jean. “T-there’s really nothing to say. I talked to him on Friday night at a party, and he’d had an argument with his friends, so Monday he sat next to me to try and avoid Eren.”

There was a pause. “...And?”

Marco frowned, his fingers still massaging at his nose. “And what?”

“Christa told me you ditched her during break and left with Jean until 4th period. Did my little Bodt-y lose his v-card finally?”

Marco’s eyes shot open. “ _Ymir what the fuck?_ ” he practically screamed into the phone.

His cousin’s booming laugh answered him. “Oh my god, you’re so funny, Marco. Relax. Seriously, though, what’s the deal there?”

Deciding he needed to sit down, Marco moved over to his bed. He flopped down onto the bed, falling onto his back with one hand thrown out over the sheets, the other still holding his phone to his ear. “Nothing, really. We went to lunch. I gave him a lift home from school.” Marco smiled a little, remembering the drive, his new nickname and their movie date for this Friday. “We’re friends. It’s nice.”

Ymir was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure, Marco?” She finally asked, quietly.

Marco frowned up at the ceiling above him. It was plastered with little glow-in-the-dark stars he had stuck up there when he was a kid. He had tried to take them down numerous times during middle school, but had eventually given up and resigned himself to the fact that they seemed to be nailed to the ceiling.

“What do you mean, Ymir?”

“I mean,” she started slowly, and Marco could almost see her fiddling on the other side of the call, “are you sure being friends with him is okay? You’ve had a crush on this guy for years; I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Marco smiled up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Ymmi. I don’t... I think I’ll be okay.”

Ymir hummed. “You sure?”

He nodded, knowing she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I think. It’s nice to just be around him, Ymir. He’s not what I expected at all – he’s this huge dork that gives awful nicknames and does things without thinking and...” Marco squeezed his eyes shut. “Even if all I’ll ever get to be is his friend, that’s okay with me.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Finally Ymir spoke again, softly, “Just don’t get hurt, Marco.”

“I won’t, Ymmi. I promise.”

They said their goodbyes shortly after, agreeing to go out sometime with Christa, and Marco finally got off his bed to work on his homework. He was an hour into Maths problems when he glanced at his phone, still lying on the bed. He was forgetting something...

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Marco jumped out of his desk chair, stumbling in the process, and dived for the phone. He unlocked the screen to see it still on Jean’s contact, and quickly went about sending a message to the number.

[5:47pm] To: **The Loser <3**  
_Hey, guess who_

He sighed, locking the screen and tossing the phone back onto the bed, rolling onto his back, about to get up when his phone chimed with the notification sound. Marco started, snaking a hand out to grab the phone from his bed sheets, opening the new message hurriedly.

[5:47] From: **The Loser <3**  
_Fuck, Cap. Took you long enough._

Marco grinned up at the screen, a blush rising over his cheeks as he turned back onto his stomach and typed out his reply.

* * *

The rest of the week was surprisingly uneventful. Marco didn’t see Eren around much: he was there in the few classes they shared, coming in just before the bell and leaving as soon as they were dismissed, but he never saw Eren out in the hall ways or at his locker any more. It was strange, considering how small the school was, but the fact that Marco hadn’t been friends with the other boy in the first place, added to everything he had said to Jean on Monday afternoon, Marco didn’t really want to see him, and his absence was not altogether unwelcomed. 

On Tuesday Jean had joined Marco at his usual table in the cafeteria with Christa, and they had joked and chatted genially, Jean apologising to and thanking Christa for swapping seats with him in English (especially now that he and Eren were on anything but speaking terms). Christa waved him off, saying she was happy to sit there if it meant Eren and Jean wouldn’t do something stupid like break each other’s noses. Marco cringed at the idea – it didn’t seem altogether unlikely.

On Wednesday at break the three of them sat together again, but this time, halfway through lunch, they were joined by Bertholt and a muscular blonde mountain of a man that Marco took to be Reiner. Bertl took one look at Jean sitting next to Marco and his eyes widened, shooting questioning eyebrows up at Marco. Marco bit his lip, shaking his head, and Bertl smiled with a small nod, pulling Reiner to sit next to him at the table. Bertl and Marco had always been able to silently communicate with one another (something that came in handy when they were in middle school and Berlt had been even more shy than he was now), and Marco was entirely appreciative of that silent understanding right now. Bertl, like Christ and Ymir, knew about his crush on Jean, and he was glad Bertl hadn’t accidentally said something that would have made Marco’s new found friendship with Jean awkward.

That lunch break Marco had been able to get to know Reiner, and he was happy to find that the man was a complete softy under his huge muscles and disarmingly loud laugh. He and Bertl made sure to sit just far away from each other to not raise attention from the tables around them (Marco made a note to ask Bertl just how out Reiner actually was), but Marco could tell from the way Reiner looked at Bertl when he talked that he really did care about him a lot. Marco couldn’t help a small smile spreading over his face as he watched them, his eyes unintentionally moving to glance at Jean besides him.

When lifting Jean home that afternoon (which was now becoming as much routine as lunch was), Jean broke a moment of comfortable silence.

"Hey, Marco?"

Marco glanced at him - he was looking out the side window, a mixture of boredom and curiosity playing over his sharp features. "Yeah?"

“Christa’s dating your cousin, right?”

Marco cocked an eyebrow, wondering where he was going with this. “Uh, yeah. Ymir. They met at my 16th birthday thing and started dating a little after that. Why?”

Without turning from the window, Jean brought a hand up to his nose and scratched at it before continuing, “So, like, most of your friends are gay?”

Marco’s eyes widened in surprise - to be perfectly honest they were lucky he didn’t crash the car – and glanced at Jean. He didn’t really know what to say.

_Fuck it._

“Yeah, I guess birds of a feather and all that, right?”

There was a brief moment of silence in which Marco kept his eyes on the road and Jean slowly turned to look at him. When Marco glanced at him, he was relieved to see that Jean didn’t look disturbed or disgusted or freaked out (which was understandable, as he didn’t act like that around Christa, Bertl or Reiner), but he did look a little confused. His eyebrows were drawn down over his golden eyes in a questioning way, his head cocked to the side and his mouth slightly open. Marco chewed on his lip in anticipation for questioning: he knew some of Jean’s mannerisms now, knew that when Jean got that look he wouldn’t stop asking questions until his curiosity was fully satisfied. Marco tried to ready himself best he could.

Finally Jean asked his first question. “What do you mean, Marco?”

Ah, so he hadn’t been as clear as he had hoped. “Um, I’m also... gay?” he didn’t mean to sound so unsure, but he was nervous. He’d only come out to a few people in his life, and it never got easier.

Jean slowly nodded. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Okay. Not a direction he was expecting this to go in. “It never came up, I guess.” Now Marco was trying to play it cool, shrugging his left shoulder and glancing over at Jean with a nervous half grin on his freckled face.

Jean didn’t have that curious expression anymore, Marco noted. Instead he was biting the inside of his cheek, still facing Marco but his eyes had wondered to gaze out the front window. Marco turned back to the road.

Finally Jean leaned back in his seat, sighing. “Okay, cool.” he eventually said.

Marco looked at Jean incredulously. “...Is that it?”

Jean glanced at him, a small smile on his face. “Well, yeah. What else can I say? It’s not like we’ve been friends for months, so I can’t be mad you didn’t tell me sooner. And you did say it now, so it’s not like you were scared to tell me. Were you?”

Marco gulped, then laughed half-heartedly. “Not scared, no. But I’m generally nervous about telling anyone. Even you.” _Especially you._

Jean nodded, as if Marco had just confirmed something for him. “Yeah, thought so. So yeah, it’s cool. And hey, Marco? You don’t have to be nervous around me, you know. You can tell me anything.” A grin spread over his face. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would ever push me away from being your friend, to be honest.”

Marco wanted to laugh. _Oh, Jean, if only that were true._

* * *

On Thursday Marco and Jean were late to lunch, having walked with each other from English to stop at Marco’s locker, then Jean’s, before heading to the cafeteria. When they got there they found the usual table more crowded than it had ever been. Christa was sitting on the edge, next to Bertl and Reiner, and across from them were a short boy with a buzz-cut and a tall brunette with her hair tied into a high tail. Jean groaned next to Marco, a hand snaking out to grip at the hem of his shirt sleeve. Marco felt his heart jump into his throat at the small contact.

“Marco, can we go somewhere else for lunch today?”

Marco stared down at the hand on his shirt. He swallowed, forcing his heart back down into his chest before looking at Jean with a weak smile. “What? Don’t want your friends to interact with us?”

Jean shook his head, his eyes glued to the table in front of them. “Sasha and Connie are a special kind of crazy. I don’t know if you can handle them.”

Marco laughed. “You’ve obviously never met my cousin.” With a burst of courage he lifted a hand and gently pried Jean’s fingers from his shirt, grabbing his wrist. “Come on, if they’re that crazy you shouldn’t leave them alone for too long.” he pulled Jean behind him, and with a groan Jean followed.

Connie and Sasha, Marco deemed, where every bit of crazy Jean had been afraid they would be. But they were an endearing kind of crazy, making stupid jokes and laughing easily, both of them eating enough food to feed a small army. Sasha was upset at Jean for having deserted her and Connie at lunch lately, and through a mouthful of food wondered aloud where Eren was. Apparently they hadn’t heard about the blow up on Monday afternoon, although they weren’t overly surprised that Jean and Eren had shared a few harsh words (apparently it happened often), more curious about where he had disappeared and why he hadn’t talked to Connie and Sasha about it (“I mean, you’re the one he blew up at. So why am I getting the silent treatment too?” were Connie’s exact words). 

Friday’s lunch period consisted of the same crowd as the day before, except Reiner had had to sit with his football buddies, and the day was generally uneventful. It had been decided the previous day that Jean would go over to Marco’s house after school and spend the afternoon there before they went to see the 7pm showing of the film, and so Marco was rushing to get everything he needed for the weekend before he went to meet Jean at his locker. He was so caught up in packing quickly that he didn’t notice the figure two lockers down from him, even when he came to stand right next to him. So when Marco finally clipped his bag closed and looked up, he was startled at the sight of Eren standing right next to him, leaning against the closed locker to his right, his arms folded over his chest.

Marco tried to school his heart beat down to a normal rate, having been caught completely by surprise. He doesn’t know what to say to Eren: whether he should be friendly or hostile (could Marco even be hostile? He’d never felt the need to before), or if being just generally confused at his presence would be enough. Eren was staring daggers at Marco, and for some odd reason he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had never been close enough to notice just how _green_ Eren’s eyes were, large and beautiful, framed like art by long, dark eyelashes and hooded under thick eyebrows pulled down in an intimidating scowl. The corners of Eren’s mouth were turned down, almost puckered, his tongue visibly moving around inside his cheek, over his teeth. He was staring at Marco with what could only be described as contempt.

Marco was baffled by the look. Sure, he wasn’t liked by _everyone_ , but he’d never given anyone a reason to _hate_ him. At least, he didn’t think he had. He thought back to the beginning of the week, when Eren had had that awful conversation with Jean. How Eren’s voice seemed to rise higher every time he said something about Marco. It dawned on Marco, suddenly, that the reason Eren had been angry at Jean that day was because of his involvement with Marco, and nothing more. 

Suddenly Marco knew exactly how he should feel towards Eren being there.

Breaking eye contact, Marco took a step away from his locker and swung the door shut. He pulled his bag onto his shoulders, holding the straps against his chest as he turned back to Eren, his face poised to show as little emotion as possible. Then, after a moment, he turned away.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

Marco stopped dead in his tracks as Eren finally spoke behind him. He turned slowly, retracing his steps to stand in front of Eren. He felt a small prick of pride at the fact that he was taller than Eren – especially with the way Eren was still leaning against the locker door. 

“Excuse me?” Marco was actually surprised at how cold his voice sounded in his ears.

Eren finally pushed himself upright, taking a step away from the lockers and towards Marco. “I know what you’re doing, hanging onto Jean like you are.”

Marco raised his eyebrows, his fist clenching tighter around the straps of his bag. “And what, exactly, am I doing?”

Eren glared at Marco. “Oh, come off it. Stop with the fucking sweet-as-pie innocent shit you’re always playing.” Eren stepped closer to Marco, his head tilting up to look Marco in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was a hiss. “I know the only reason you want to be friends with him is to bone him.”

Marco’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide. His mouth moved open and closed once, twice, three times, before his face was engulfed in a hot flush. “W-w- _what_?” he finally spluttered out, incredulous. 

Eren brought a hand up, clenched in a fist, but kept it in the air. “Don’t think I’ve never noticed you staring at him. Everyone might think you’re this fucking angel, but you aren’t.”

Marco gaped at Eren once again. “W-what do you think I’m going to do?” His voice was rising alarmingly, and he tried his best to bring the volume back down, noticing one or two people still taking their time leaving the premises. “I- just- Jean and I are _friends_.”

There was a short pause. Eren’s eyes narrowed as he took a step away from him, dropping his fist. “Right. Friends. Just remember that if you hurt him, I won’t go easy on you.”

With that Eren turned and walked away. Marco watched him go with his mouth still hanging open.

* * *

“Hey man, what took you so long?”

Jean smiled up at Marco, one of his half grins to the right of his face. Marco had noticed that when the grin was to the left it meant that Jean was showing off, trying – and succeeding – to act like a jerk, or had just said an offensive joke and was trying to play it off. When the grin went to the right however, it meant that he was unsure of something. It meant he was worried, or self conscious, or uncomfortable. Marco hated that smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Marco huffed, a placating smile on his face, his breath coming out in gasps. “I got caught up by someone.” He had just run from his locker to Jeans, after having remembered that they were meant to be meeting. Eren’s words still echoed in his head.

Jean shrugged, his smile widening over both sides of his face. He looked relieved. “No problem. Should we go?”

Marco nodded. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

They talked as they walked to the car, their conversation as easy as always, discussing whether they should stop to pick up take-aways before going to Marco’s house, or just destroy the kitchen trying to make something for themselves. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. They stopped by one of the pizza places near the school, getting a large to share, before continuing on to Marco’s house. Marco laughed at how excited Jean seems to be to be going to his house, the blonde wiggling in his seat, drumming his fingers against the pizza box on his lap. 

The night before, Marco had made sure to clean his room and made sure he didn’t have any clothes lying anywhere, hid anything embarrassing, even went so far as to vacuum and dust. He’d made his bed in the morning – something he frequently forgot to do – and so, when they walked in, everything was way neater than it would normally be.

Marco put his bag down next to his desk, toeing his shoes off as Jean wondered around the room, looking at his book shelves and the few posters on his wall. Marco smiled at him. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to go get something to drink. Coke okay for you?”

Jean glanced over at Marco and nodded, a smile on his face before turning back to inspect Marco’s DVD collection.

Once in the kitchen Marco leaned against the counter, his hands spread out on the cool grey granite. With a sigh he leaned down until his forehead was resting against one of his hands, his eyes closed. As much as he wanted to enjoy the afternoon with Jean, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Eren had said. 

_“I know the only reason you want to be friends with him is to bone him.”_

The words stung. Marco scrunched his eyes tight against the skin of his hand. He knew the words weren’t true – he _knew_ he liked Jean as a friend; he wasn’t just using him or trying to trick him into bed. He _wasn’t_. He would never do that.

...But he couldn’t deny that he still liked Jean. He tried to deny it, he really did, but there were moments when he was transfixed by his long, thin fingers when he played with a loose thread on his hoodie, or the way his lips glisten after he’d nervously lick them. He probably liked him even _more_ now than he had a few weeks ago, as much as he tried to trick those feelings into being ones of friendship.

Marco slowly pushing himself back off the counter, keeping his eyes closed and his hands still placed flat. With a sigh he opens his eyes, shakes his head, moves over to the refrigerator. No, Marco decides, as he pulls out two cans of soft drinks for them. No, Jean was Marco’s friend. He knew –vowed to himself – that he wouldn’t hurt Jean, no matter what Eren thought.

* * *

Marco convinced Jean that they should do homework while they were together, much to Jean’s chagrin. But, Jean didn’t really have much of an argument against Marco’s reasoning (It’s more fun doing homework with friends, if we work together we’ll get it done faster, if we do it now you wouldn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the weekend). They worked on their homework together, even the classes they didn’t share, and after a while Jean admitted that, yeah, it was actually kind of fun. 

They finished with their work with an hour to spare, and decided to get to the mall early, booking their tickets before they walked around the mall aimlessly. Marco notices that Jean was acting a little more fidgety than usual, continuously bringing the cuffs of his hoodie sleeves over his thumbs and gripping them in loose fists. Marco watched him out of the corner of his eye, somewhat concerned, before pulling Jean away from the food court and out to one of the less crowded areas in the mall. Jean immediately seemed to relax, and they looked at expensive sports shoes and bicycles through shop windows until it was late enough that they could go back to the cinema.

Jean, Marco decided, was an excellent movie-viewing partner. He didn’t claim both arm rests for himself, wasn’t too quiet or too loud, and offered Marco M&Ms continuously. Every now and then Jean would lean over and murmur something to Marco, making snide remarks at how idiotic some of the characters were acting, or saying things like “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely something you would say” practically every time Captain America spoke. In return Marco tried to decide which character Jean was most like, narrowing it down to Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, or Quick Silver (“Bucky’s not even _in_ this movie!” Jean whined when Marco brought the character’s name up).

“See, your hair is almost identical to Quick Silver’s! You just need the pathetic facial hair and tragic back-story.” Marco whispered to Jean, who immediately elbowed him in the ribs. Marco laughed.

When the film was over they walked to Marco’s car in high spirits, Jean talking animatedly about his favourite parts, the most idiotic mistakes, how excited he was for the next movie in the franchise. They got into the car and continued talking, the radio playing softly under the rise and fall of their voices.

There’s something about driving at night after a good movie, the radio on soft and the lights of the suburbs dim and golden around you. Marco smiled as he listened to Jean explicitly argue why he was _nothing like_ Bucky Barnes, and how he was much more like Tony Stark, which only made Marco feel all the more that Bucky Barnes was Jean’s spirit superhero (or villain, in this case).

“Oh, come on, Jean, _buck up_. He’s a cool character.”

Jean froze in his seat. Slowly he turned to look at Marco. “Did... Did you just say what I think you said?”

Marco remained quiet, biting his lip to try and hide his grin.

“I swear to god, Marco, if you weren’t driving right now-”

“What?” Marco interrupted, glancing at him. “What would you do?”

Jean frowned, huffed.

Marco laughed. “You’re as threatening as a beanie baby.”

Jean jumped up in his seat, glaring at Marco. “That’s it! Marco Bodt, stop this car, _I will fight you!_ ”

Marco couldn’t help it – he howled with laughter, causing Jean to get more and more riled up until they were both laughing, gasping for air. Eventually their laughter subsided into silence, the radio playing softly between them.

After a moment Jean leaned forwards and turned the dial up. “Hey, I know this song.” 

Marco listened to it for a moment, frowning. He knew the tune – it sounded like the kind of song that would probably be on a Shrek soundtrack – trying to place it when he heard Jean start to sing softly along to the words.

 _“So she said: what's the problem, baby?_  
_What's the problem? I don't know_  
_Well maybe I'm in love (love)_  
_Think about it every time”_

Marco froze, listening to Jean’s soft murmur bellow the sound of the song, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He tried not to spook Jean by staring at him openly, but couldn’t stop himself from glancing at him from the corner of his eye whenever possible.

 _“How much longer will it take to cure this?_  
_Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it’s love (love)_  
_Makes me wanna turn around and face me but I don't know nothing 'bout love”_

Jean was staring out of the passenger window, his head resting on a fist with his elbow against the door handle. Marco could see just enough of his face to make out Jean’s lips moving along with the words, his eyes darting around as they looked out into the night. They passed under a street lamp, its light illuminating Jean in a sudden golden glow. Marco sucked in a breath. Suddenly he was acutely aware of just how beautiful Jean really was. He was so beautiful, with his messy bleached hair, the defined sharp shape of his jaw, how his nose was just a little too long for his face and how his golden eyes were always just a little unsure of themselves under all that bravado. 

_“Well baby I surrender_  
_To the strawberry ice cream_  
_Never ever end of all this love_  
_Well I didn't mean to do it_  
_But there's no escaping your love”_

He tore his eyes away from Jean, turning into Jean’s road and pulling up at his house, the song still playing on the radio. He came to a stop, his hands clenched on the wheel.

If Jean noticed how tense Marco suddenly was, he didn’t mention it. He had moved in his seat, grinning at Marco with his hands already on the seatbelt. “Thanks, Captain Freckles. Today was fun. See you Monday?”

Marco forced smiled, nodded, gulped. “Monday” he repeated. With a broad grin Jean unclipped his seatbelt and got out of the car. Marco watched him, breathing slowly. When Jean got to his front door he turned around, and Marco watched with curiosity as Jean raised a hand to wave at him, unlocking the door with his other hand. Marco raised his hand in return as Jean turned and disappeared into the house, the door shutting behind him with Marco’s hand still raised limply in the air.

 _I'm in love, I'm in love,_  
_I'm in love, I'm in love,_  
_Accidentally_  
_Accidentally in love_

Marco gulped, switched the radio off, turned the ignition, and drove home with nothing but the sound of his thoughts.

* * *

When Marco got home a few minutes later he trudged up the stairs, avoiding the creakiest wood panels so that he wouldn’t wake his parents, who went to bed extremely early, and stepped into his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he rested his head on the cool wood, hitting his forehead against it once, twice, before snaking a hand down to grab his phone from his pocket. 

He unlocked it, his forehead still against the wood of his door, and looked through his contacts until he came to the number he wanted, right near the bottom, and clicked the call option. The call went through within seconds.

“Marco, honey, why are you phoning so late?”

“Ymmi.” Marco hated the way his voice shook.

Ymir was suddenly fully alert. “Marco! Are you okay, where are you?”

Marco breathed out a long, shaky breath. “I-I’m at home. Everything’s alright... But um, you were right.”

“Right? Right about _what_? Marco, you’re freaking me out, what’s wrong?”

“About Jean, Ymmi. I don’t- I don’t think... Fuck, Ymmi.” Marco closed his eyes, fighting back tears. “I think I’m going to end up hurting myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't know what Jean's aversion to Bucky Barnes is - I think he just REALLY wants to be Tony Stark.
> 
> Next chapter or the chapter after it (like three-quarters of this story is made up as I write it) will be told from Eren's perspective, how do you feel about that? I just want to give him a moment to explain why he's being such a dick.
> 
> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I know who I am when I'm alone_  
>  _I'm something else when I see you_  
>  _You don't understand, you should never know_  
>  _How easy you are to need_  
>  Hozier, "It Will Come Back"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy I actually finished this chapter in time to post it today! I was worried for a while that I'd never finish this chapter, but inspiration his me Sunday night/his morning.  
> Some key warnings: angst, very little Marco in this chapter, but we do see Connie and Jean bonding. Also rating has gone up to Mature, finally! Alright, enjoy!

Most of Jean’s weekend consists of spending time with his mom, doing chores and playing video games. Because Jean’s mother works very long hours during the week they’ve had a tradition since as long as Jean could remember of spending Saturday mornings together; having breakfast at home, going grocery shopping together, getting lunch at the mall, getting back home and packing everything into the kitchen. 

For the most part of the weekend Jean texts Marco back-and-forth, but finds that Marco replies less frequently and with shorter replies than he did during the rest of the week – Jean accounts this to it being the weekend and that Marco’s probably busy with family stuff, so he doesn’t think too much of it. 

Sunday night Marco tells Jean, via text, that since Professor Zoe is back at school he’ll have to stay for drama club on Monday and Tuesday afternoons, and can’t give Jean lifts home on those days. Jean shrugs it off, sending Marco a quick reply that he doesn’t mind, and he doesn’t. The walk home from school is only 15 minutes if he takes his time. The only reason he ever took Marco up on the offer was to spend more time with his new friend. And anyway, he’d still see him in class and at lunch.

Monday Marco sat down next to Christa at lunch breathlessly, shoving food down his throat as he explained that he had to leave lunch early to work on a physics lab. Jean grimaced in sympathy – he also did physics, in a different period from Marco, and he had to do the same lab during tomorrow’s lunch period. 

It was only Wednesday when Jean started to realise that Marco seemed to be distancing himself from Jean. For the whole week Marco’s smiles were smaller, almost forced, their moments of eye contact short as Marco quickly pulled his eyes away from Jean’s. Marco had stopped walking to each of their lockers together after English, and would sit next to Christa on the corner of the lunch table instead of next to Jean. They still sat next to each other in English, but the notes they passed, much like the few texts Jean got as replies to his own, were short and to the point. He noticed sometimes that Marco would frown slightly at him when he thought Jean couldn’t see him, and there was a hesitance in everything Marco said, a flinch in any accidental bodily contact Jean would have with him.

At first Jean thought Marco was just having a bad day – maybe he wasn’t in the mood for people and was just trying to recharge his social batteries, so to speak. Then he started to wonder if something was wrong at home, and tried to talk to him about it. Marco just gave a small smile and shook his head. Home was fine, school was fine, nothing was wrong. Sure.

When Jean walked up to Marco’s locker on Wednesday afternoon as class ended, he found Marco packing books into his bag at an alarmingly slow pace, barely even looking at the books as he picked them up and sluggishly brought them to the bag. Jean walked up slowly and tapped Marco on the shoulder.

Marco jumped away from the touch like he had been electrocuted. “Jean!”

Jean took a step back, his eyebrows arching up in surprise, his hands up in a sign of amity. “Woah, I’m sorry! What were you thinking about to be in your own world like that?”

Marco’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His gaze suddenly flew over Jean’s shoulder before falling to the floor. “Um, nothing important.” he said, kneeling down to pick up his bag.

Jean tried to keep the frown off his face. “Okay...” he said, unsure, before ploughing forwards with a new topic. “So, uh, hey, you don’t have drama today do you?”

Marco stood up straight again, pressing his bag between his hip and his locker and he started packing more books into his bag. He barely glanced at Jean. “Uh. Yeah, I don’t...”

A small, hopeful smile spread over Jean’s face. “That’s good. Hey, do you want to, um, hang out today? We could work on the bio homework together, if you want.”

He watched Marco as he said it, only able to see the back of his freckled ear and the curve of his strong jaw line from this angle. He can’t read his expression, but he can read his body language. Jean watches Marco’s shoulders tense, his ear glowing red as his head ducks down.

“I, uh, can’t. I promised my mom I’d run a few errands for her today.” Marco finally glanced back at Jean, his expression reading as guilty, his teeth gnawing at the delicate skin of his bottom lip. “Sorry, Jean.”

Jean ducked his head, giving a quick nod as he ran a hand through the longest part of his hair. “N-no worries.” he stammered, his face heating up with the sting of rejection. Jean turned on his heals immediately “Okay, bye.”

“Wait, Jean!” Marco called, but Jean kept going. He had only taken a few steps when he bumped shoulders with someone.

He was about to apologised when he glanced to the side and noticed that the person he had bumped into was Eren, scowling down at the floor in front of his open locker. Jean had forgotten Eren’s locker was so close to Marco’s.

His gaze shifted from Eren’s to Marco, a few paces behind him. He had taken a few steps towards Jean, but now his gaze was fixed on Eren. Marco seemed to be rooted to the ground, his bag hanging limb in one hand with his locker still open behind him. Jean glanced between the two boys, confused, before turning and leaving.

* * *

By Thursday Jean was feeling a small ball of anxiety curled up in the pit of his stomach, getting larger and larger with each of Marco’s small smiles and hesitant replies. Jean had known early in his childhood the sting of rejection when trying to make friends, and had learnt to not approach people for that very reason. His friends: Eren (as much as they were ignoring each other’s existence right now, Jean still considered Eren his friend – you didn’t know someone for 18 years just to throw them away after some harsh words), Connie (and Sasha by association), were all friendships that had been thrust upon him. He had never had to worry about the idea that they would leave him. But Marco, Marco was different. Marco was the first person Jean had ever actively tried to pursue a friendship with, and seeing it crumble in the second week of their knowing each other was like a blow to the stomach for Jean. 

Especially with the small voice in his head that had begun calling Marco his best friend.

When he got to English class for second period he forced a small smile onto his face for Marco, which was returned with just as much force. Jean sat down and pulled out his notebook and a copy of Macbeth, staring at the front cover until Ms. Ral came in to start the lesson.

By the end of Thursday he was distancing himself from Marco subconsciously, walking next to him with more space than before, talking hesitantly while looking at the floor, sitting on the opposite end of the lunch table from him. It wasn’t that Jean was trying to do it, but he just felt himself closing in on himself, pulling away, mirroring Marco’s behaviour. He hadn’t worked up the courage yet to confront Marco, still waiting for Marco to let the ball drop and tell him he didn’t want to be friends anymore. They were stuck in limbo, and it was killing Jean.

Jean didn’t ask to make plans with Marco that afternoon.

Friday morning Jean decides he needs a Mental Health Day. It’s something Jean’s mother had allowed him to do in the past, when he was feeling stressed out and drained and couldn’t deal with the crowded school halls and classrooms. As much as he feels like a coward for taking the day off just because a new friend has stopped talking to him, he feels like he needs to take time off and just be by himself for a bit. 

He sends his mom a message letting her know that he’s staying home that day (she’s usually already at work by the time Jean gets up), and then rolls over in bed again, feeling the need to sleep a bit longer.

* * *

He’s woken up around noon by the sound of the notification tone on his phone, going off repetitively wherever he had dropped it when he went to sleep. Jean groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. Only one person sent him torrents of messages like this.

He fished out his phone from under his pillow and opened up his chat. As expected, a series of texts from Connie greeted him.

[12:02] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Hey, Jeanbo, how you?_

[12:03] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Since you’re not at school and all. You sick?_

[12:03] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_We got a new French assignment. I could really use your help when you get back._

[12:04] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Missing you at lunch btw_

Jean couldn’t help a small laugh escaping as he typed out his reply:

[12:06] To: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Not sick, just taking a MHD_

He got a reply back almost instantly:

[12:06] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Ah, I get chu._

[12:07] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Hey, if you’re feeling up to it you wanna hang out this afternoon? Just me and you_

[12:07] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_I can drop off your homework while I’m at it._

Jean thinks it over for a moment. He took the day off to get away from people, but... He hasn’t hung out alone with Connie for what feels like ages, and generally he relishes his time with Connie when Sasha isn’t around (as much as he loves Sasha), so he doesn’t feel like a third wheel. Plus it’d be nice to have someone to vent to about the whole Marco thing.

[12:09] To: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Sure, sounds good. Bring some junk food too?_

Connie’s reply, once again, is almost instantaneous.

[12:09] From: **The Bald Eagle**  
_Ye boi! See you in a while crocodile_

Jean groans at how lame his friend is, falling back onto his bed with a grin on his face.

* * *

About half an hour after school should finish Jean hears a loud banging at his door. He sighs, putting his DS down on the side table and getting out of bed, going to greet his noisy friend at the door. 

When he opens the door, a put-on frown upon his face, he doesn’t even have a moment to make some snarky remark about Connie’s unnecessary loudness when his friend is already barging right past him, his backpack over his shoulders and a plastic bag in hand.

“So, like, I went ahead and just got us McDonalds, since it’s on the way here. So I hope a cheeseburger and chips is good, but I figured, hey, who doesn’t like McDonalds’ cheese burger and chips, right? Also I forgot what flavour milkshake you like most so I got a chocolate and strawberry and I’ll have whatever you’re not having, cool?”

Jean watched his friend as he moved around his house, already at home as he kicked off his shoes and grabbed plates from the kitchen.

“Nice to see you too. No, please, come in, make yourself at home.” Jean says sarcastically, closing the front door and locking it behind him. Connie grins at him from the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah, sourpuss. Now which milkshake do you want? I’m not really fussy ‘cause when you date someone like Sasha, you learn to eat what you get and be happy with it.” Connie laughs. “Most of the time I have to order something she wants to eat ‘cause she can’t decide what meal she wants most.”

Jean scoffs, walking up to the kitchen island and resting on his elbows over the counter, watching as Connie unpacks the take-out food onto plates. “She really does eat like a horse, doesn’t she? Uh, I’ll have the strawberry one.”

Connie’s grin turns fond. “Oh, yeah, she eats like it’s a competition.” He’s quiet for a moment, looking down at the food in front of him, before physically snapping himself out of it, handing a plate and a McDonalds paper cup over to Jean. “Sorry, we’re not talking about Sasha today. It’s just us two for the afternoon.”

Jean smiles softly, taking the food. “I don’t mind when you talk about her, you know.”

Connie shrugged, a grin still plastered on his face. “Yeah, well. A... uh, single guy like you probably gets sick of hearing about his friend’s girlfriend all the time.”

Jean shrugged. “It doesn’t really bother me. You guys are perfect for each other. Anyway, let’s go to my room.”

They leave the kitchen and walk down the hall of Jean’s one-story house to his room, settling down on the floor in front of the ancient box television Jean used to channel surf public-access and play out-dated consoles on. Jean doesn’t believe in spending money where it isn’t needed, preferring to let his mom put extra money into savings than into stuff like fancy electronics.

They eat while watching an old Cartoon Network rerun, Connie filling Jean in on what he missed at school that day. It wasn’t much, and luckily he didn’t have too much homework to catch up on. Jean was zoning out a little bit when Connie threw in a casual remark:

“Oh, Marco asked about you at lunch, by the way.”

Jean’s eyebrows shot up and back down into a frown as he looked at Connie. “I- What? Marco?”

Connie shrugged, taking a slow drink from his milkshake before replying. “Yeah, he seemed pretty worried. I told him you were just taking a Mental Health Day, but that didn’t seem to make him feel better.” Connie glanced at Jean. “He hasn’t contacted you?”

Jean swallowed, staring down at his plate, which now just consisted of a few droopy fries and a splatter of tomato sauce. “Uh, no. He hasn’t really...” Jean bit his lip. “He hasn’t really talked to me much this whole week.”

From the corner of his eye he can see Connie frowning, but he avoids eye contact. After a pause, Connie sighs. “Yeah, Sasha and I kind of noticed. Did something happen? You guys were like thick as thieves last week and then suddenly...” he feels Connie shrug next to him.

Jean sighs, putting his plate on the floor, not really in the mood to eat those last few fries. “I honestly don’t know what happened. He just... We went to see Age of Ultron on Friday-”

“You saw Age of Ultron without me?”

Jean shot a glare at Connie. “Sorry. Continue.” Connie said, biting back a grin.

Jean rolled his eyes. “Marco drove me home and we were just arguing stupidly about superheroes, and then the whole weekend we still sent texts to each other, although Marco’s replies were really short, and then at school... He was just, really distant.” Jean glared down at the carpet, playing with the short fibres to keep his hands busy. “I mean, did I do something wrong?”

Connie shakes his head. “No, man, of course you didn’t. If he’s being distant that’s his issue. Although it’s a prick move, I didn’t think he would be like that.”

Jean finally looks at Connie. “Marco’s not a prick.” he says, defensively, his voice rising slightly.

Connie raises his hands in a sign of surrender. “Hey, man, I meant nothing by it. I just don’t like seeing you looking so upset.” Connie brought his hands down and bit his lip. “So, uh. I talked to Eren today too.”

Jean raised his eyebrows. “Really? And? What did he say?”

Connie shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Nothing, really. He was kind of moody still. But I was able to find out that he’s been spending all his lunch breaks in the library lately. So there’s that.”

Jean pulls his legs in and rests his head on his knees, one hand clasped around them while the other kept pulling at the carpet. In all honesty he’s not thinking about Eren much at all anymore, his thoughts now straying to that time last week when Eren and he had last spoken, and how Marco had been _so angry_ at what Eren had said about Jean. 

Connie seems to notice the shift in Jean’s focus, because he pulls his legs in as well and mirrors Jean’s position, his arms crossed over his legs and his head resting back against the bed frame. There’s a moment of silence. 

“Jean?”

Jean glances up at him from the carpet. “Mm?”

Connie bites his lip. “Can I ask you something? How, um. How do you feel about Marco?”

Jean frowns. “What do you mean?”

Connie shook his head. “Like. I don’t know. Why are you so upset he’s distancing himself, maybe? Just... why do you like him?”

Jean’s brow furrowed further in concentration, pondering the question. After a few false starts he was able to string together a coherent thought. “I... I don’t know. He’s like, the nicest person I’ve ever met? Or not nice, he’s _kind_. He does good things not because it’s expected of him or because he can get something out of it, but because he wants to do it. He wants to help people. He always seems to know when I’m uncomfortable and goes out of his way to distract me from crowds. And like... He’s really funny and easy to talk to, and you know how bad I am with talking to people. But I feel comfortable with him, you know? But – and no offence – I feel like he’s my best friend. And I’ve only known him for a week... Two weeks.”

When Jean glances back up at Connie he finds his friend is staring at him. It makes Jean want to crawl into a hole, worried he’s over shared or misinterpreted the question. “...What?” he grumbles, nestling his chin further into his knees. 

Connie shakes his head, really slowly, before replying. When he does, he talks like he’s choosing each word with care. “You know, Jean, that’s kind of... Exactly how I feel about Sasha. And if you asked Bertholt, that’s probably what he would say about Reiner. Or Christa about Ymir. I...” Connie scratches a hand through his buzzcut before looking Jean straight in the eye, “I know you don’t really think about this kind of stuff very often, but do you maybe, you know, like Marco in a _romantic_ way?”

Jean had been watching Connie, listening to him, his hand still playing with the carpet, but when the question is asked his eyes go wide and everything freezes. Well, everything freezes on the outside, but internally his brain is whirring, slotting his thoughts and feeling towards Marco into different files, rolling through all the words associated with romantic. Like, relationship, boyfriend, _love_. 

Does he like Marco? Could he _love_ Marco? Jean never really thinks about these kinds of things, so he doesn’t really know. The last crush he had was on Eren’s step-sister when he was 10, and that wasn’t a crush so much as an I-think-your-hair-is-pretty-and-people-tell-me-I-need-to-like-girls-so-I-guess-I-like-you kind of a situation. It only lasted two weeks. Jean just never really looked at people and saw them either romantically or even sexually. When it came to the idea of romance and dating, he always just shrugged the idea off, thinking that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

But does he like Marco? If what Connie said was true, that the feelings he had for Marco were similar to what Connie felt for Sasha, then it had to be true, right? Connie and Sasha were the perfect couple, in Jean’s eyes – two absolute idiots that were absolute idiots for each other. He had to admit, the idea of being like that with Marco was something Jean found enticing. 

Connie watched Jean with concern clearly written all over his face, but didn’t say anything. They sat in silence and Jean thought it over, trying to figure out a response to Connie, but before he could they were interrupted by a loud noise emanating from Connie phone. 

“Oh! Shit, sorry!” Connie jumped, grabbing his phone from his pocket to check what it was. “Fuck, my mom wants to know when I’m coming home.” he glanced at Jean, a small uncertain smile on his face. “You know how she gets if I miss supper without letting her know.”

Jean nods automatically, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Yeah, you should probably go.”

Connie bit his lip, obviously torn. “Are you sure, man? I can stay for longer.”

Jean shook his head. “No, go.” he smirked at Connie. “Since when have we been so girlie, talking about feelings and shit for a whole afternoon? We didn’t touch the Play Station once, man.”

Connie laughed softly. “Hey, remember that time I made you and Eren wear dresses for my sister’s tea party when we were like 10?” Connie snickered. “There’s nothing wrong with being girlie sometimes, dude. In fact we should have another tea party like that one day.”

Jean couldn’t help a laugh falling from his mouth. “Oh, man. I was almost able to forget about that.”

They’ve reached the door now, and Jean holds it open for Connie with a small smile. Connie returns the smile, still looking pretty worried. “I’m sorry if I sprung the... uh, romance stuff on you a little suddenly. Will you call me if you need anything?”

Jean nods. “Yeah, of course. Thanks man.”

Connie’s smile broadens, and he’s about to turn and leave when Jean stops him, a hand on his bicep. “Hey, Con?”

Connie looks back at him. “Yeah, man?”

“What if- what if I actually _do_ like Marco, and he doesn’t like me back? What if he keeps ignoring me?”

Connie smiles sadly back at Jean. “If he’s distancing himself from you already, you’ve got nothing left to lose, right?”

Jean stared at Connie, opening his mouth once, twice, before swallowing audible. He dropped his hand from Connie’s arm and looked down at the floor. “I- Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Connie makes a soft clicking noise with his tongue, his hand coming up to pat Jean’s shoulder. “Hey, Jean? For the record, I really think it would go well if you did tell him.”

Jean risked a glance up to Connie’s face. “Yeah?”

Connie smiled back warmly. “Yeah.”

* * *

It’s late now, almost midnight, and Jean is still awake because of his shitty decision to spend most of the day napping. Well, that and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about Marco. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he’s convinced that he probably does like Marco. He likes the way Marco speaks when he’s reading out loud in English class, and walking down the hall with him to their lockers. He likes the way Marco goes to the least crowded and most boring part of the mall for him, so he doesn’t have to deal with the crowds at the food court.

He likes the way Marco laughs, and the way he smiles, how one of Marco’s front teeth is just a little bit skew, and how when he smiles there’s a little dimple just under his right eye. And, yeah, he likes those eyes. Those grey-brown eyes rimmed by long thick eyelashes, the kind any girl would be envious of. He imagines those eyelashes now – imagines Marco blinking slowly, his eyelashes caressing the skin of his cheek, before looking up at Jean through hooded eyes, his beautiful irises only partially visible through those long lashes. Marco’s kneeling in front of Jean, his delicate fingers on the waist band of his pants, and suddenly Jean can’t breathe.

He rolls onto his back on the bed, his eyes closed as he pictures Marco in his mind’s eye; as he pushes his pants down around his thighs he pictures Marco doing it instead, Marco’s mouth on the hard bulge of his boxers before he pushes those down, too. He runs a thumb over the slit of his cock and imagines it as Marco’s tongue, licking slowly over his tip and down, down over the vein on the underside of his dick, right down to the base. Jean’s hips buck up as he pictures Marco taking him in deep, imagines the tight damp heat of Marco’s mouth. Jean moans at the mental image and quickly brings his hand to his mouth, biting on the knuckle of his index finger.

Soon he’s taking his fingers into his mouth, thrusting them in and licking over them, imagining Marco straddled over him and fucking his mouth. His hand speeds up on his cock, imagining Marco’s sweet beautiful voice talking dirty words to him, telling Jean to take in his large cock like the good boy that he is, and Jean loves it. He moans around his fingers, his eyes still closed, his hand pumping over his cock fast and hard. With one last moan Jean is coming into his hand, his back arching against the bed. He lies there for a moment, his eyes still shut and his breathing coming out ragged, his chest heaving up and down. Finally he opens his eyes and looks down at himself.

Shit. His cum is all over his sleep shirt, his hand, some on the sheets and blanket. It’s the hardest he’s come for a while – hell, probably ever. He never masturbates, only maybe once or twice a weeks and that’s mostly out of boredom or because he woke up with a hard-on and doesn’t want to bother with a cold shower. He sighs, pulling his shirt off and using it to wipe the cum off whatever he could, before throwing the shirt on the floor, pulling his boxers and pants up, and snuggling into his duvet.

And then it suddenly hits him. He’d just masturbated to the idea of Marco. He cringes, nudging his face deeper into his pillow. No denying it, he liked Marco Bodt.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've gotten good at writing emotional cliff hangers. Next chapter is going to be Eren POV finally (I've been alluding to it since like chapter 2), and then I think there will only be 2, maybe 3 chapters before we hit the end of the line. Looking forwards to it!
> 
> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's dark and everyone's numb_   
>  _Kids are making faces in the bus lane_   
>  _But nobody looks up_   
>  _Everyone's life the same as yesterday_   
>  _Just like the ticking of clocks_
> 
> _And I'm craving, craving, craving something I can feel_  
>  _Where do I go, what do I need, is it ecstasy or is it fear?_  
>  _Am I on my own, am I even close_  
>  _'Coz I'm craving, still craving something I can feel_  
>  James Bay, "Craving"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, god. So much for posting every second week... It's been 12 weeks. I'm so sorry. I have a lot of excuses, but hey chapter 6 is finally here! This is the long anticipated Eren chapter. I hope its to your liking... Half the reason this chapter took so long to post was because I was in half the mind to delete the whole thing but I kept going, and I'm vaguely happy with the result. I hope you are too. It's the longest chapter yet, too, with over 6000 words. So yeah.

It’s been two weeks since the last time Eren spoke to Jean.

He wonders how Jean is, if he’s been eating properly, how his anxiety is currently holding up. He knows that Jean didn’t come to school on Friday because he talked to Connie. He’s talked to Connie but he hasn’t talked to Jean yet, what the fuck.

The thing is though. Eren feels like absolute shit because at least 50% of what’s bugging Jean (he wants to think it’s 50% - he wants to think that he is that high on Jean’s priority list, as fucked up as that sounds) has to do with things that Eren has done. Taking him to that shitty house party, letting him talk to Marco, being pissed off and arguing with Jean on the Monday after, not speaking to him for a whole two weeks, saying that shit to Marco a week ago and watching as Marco tries in desperation to distance himself from Jean while Jean has no idea what’s going on. It’s all Eren’s fault and he _knows_ this, and if he could go back to that Friday night and just make them all go watch Age of Ultron instead of going to that shitty party, he would do it in a second. 

But Eren is a realist, and he knows he can’t go back in time and fix things. Hell, he can’t even fix things in the present. And so he continues to spend his lunch breaks in the library and violently avoiding all contact with his friends. He tries to avoid all contact with everyone, but it doesn’t seem to be in his cards.

“Hey, Eren.”

Eren recognises the voice immediately. He looks up from the animal encyclopaedia he wasn’t really reading at the boy in front of him. Short, blue-eyed porcelain doll with the worst bowl-cut blonde hair he has ever seen. Armin Arlert.

Before Eren had started to spend his breaks in the library he hadn’t even been aware the kid existed, yet alone that he went to his school or was even in his grade. But apparently Armin had known Eren when he came up to him in the library, that small smile on his baby face. 

“Hey...”

Eren had glared up at him. He had been hunched in the corner of the library, having chosen the furthest table away from the entrance, with his head in his arms, trying desperately to avoid everyone possible. 

Armin hadn’t seemed effected by the glare. “You’re Eren Jaeger, right?”

He had been unsurprised by the fact that this stranger knew his name. He’d been in enough fights throughout the years for his reputation to precede him. He was half expecting the boy to kick him out of the library for this exact reason, and so he was mildly surprised when the boy sat down across from him.

“I’m Armin Arlert. I, uh, I was friends with your sister Mikasa? Did she ever mention me?” 

Eren cocked an eyebrow at the kid. Okay, he was interested now. If the kid had been friends with Mikasa he couldn’t be that bad. Eren shook his head slightly, still nestled in his arms on the table. He’d never heard the name Armin Arlert in his life.

Armin seemed unaffected by this fact and continued on, “How is Mikasa, by the way? Is she enjoying university life?”

Eren sighed internally. Seems like he’d have to break his silence. “She’s alright,” he managed to grunt out.

Armin’s small smile broadened – though whether it was because Eren had finally spoken or because of the news of Mikasa, he could not say. “That’s great. I’m thinking about going to that university next year. Maybe I’ll see her at the open day in a month’s time.”

Eren hadn’t bothered replying. He hadn’t known about the open day because he had been planning to study there ever since Mikasa had gone, anyway. Was hoping to rent out a small student apartment with her off campus and finally be away from this shitty little corner of suburbia.

Armin took his silence in ease. “Hey, mind if I sit with you?” he gestured to the pile of books next to him. “Promise I won’t bother you too much.”

Eren had only shrugged. As long as the guy didn’t talk too much, he didn’t care.

Every day since then has been the same. Eren would sit in the back of the library, sometimes reading, studying, or doodling, but mostly he just glares at people, and then after a while Armin would appear with an armful of books and sit across from him. They didn’t always talk, but when they do Eren has found Armin to be a lot like what he thinks a shrink would be like – he mostly talks in questions, doesn’t get angry if Eren snaps at him, asks about how Eren feels about a lot of stuff. Eren wants to be annoyed at the whole thing, but finds it doesn’t actually bug him as much as he would have thought. He might even have even started liking the kid, just a little bit.

Armin smiles at Eren as he sits down in the seat opposite him, a stack of books in placed on the desk in front of him. They’re all different books on a variety of topics, both fiction and non-fiction, and every day the pile is new – Armin never seems to have the same books with him twice.

“How was your weekend?”

Eren grunts in response, looking back down at his book.

“Have you talked to Jean yet?” Eren glances up and scowls at Armin, but the blonde just smiled again, an exasperated sort of smile that came with a sigh. “You really should talk to him, you know. Especially if you’re this worried.”

Eren huffed. “Who says I’m worried about him?”

Armin gave Eren the Look. Eren was 100% certain that Armin had learnt that look from Mikasa. “You need to talk to him at some point, Eren. He’s your best friend, right? We’ve only got half a year left of high school, you know. If you don’t talk to him soon you might lose him forever.”

Eren glared down at the table. He didn’t need to hear that from someone he’s just barely met. He _knew that_.

Armin gives Eren a few moments to glare at the table before he sighs, breaking the silence. “If you don’t want to talk to him, at least talk to someone about what’s bothering you.” Armin’s voice is quiet. “You could call Mikasa, if you wanted. Or... you can always talk to me.”

Eren stops staring daggers into the table as his gaze flits up to look at Armin. The small blonde boy was staring down at the table in front of him, his cheeks dusted pink and his eyebrows drawn up in worry. It was Eren’s turn to sigh now, dragging a hand down his face. Life had become so much more _complicated_ ever since Jean and Marco had started talking to each other.

Okay, that was a lie. Eren wasn’t so self-delusional as to think all his worries had started two weeks ago, although he does blame a lot of it on Marco. It’s just that he had started blaming Marco not two weeks ago, but two years.

It had been the first day of grade 10 and the English teacher at that time had put them all in alphabetical order, which didn’t really bother Eren much because the only person he wanted to sit near was Jean, and they were right after each other on the class list. No big deal. The way the desks were arranged, Eren ended up sitting behind Jean, and from his vantage had a clear view of most of the class. Something he noticed almost immediately, which Jean didn’t, was the way Marco Bodt, three rows down and parallel to Jean, kept looking their way.

Eren didn’t really get what Marco’s problem was, but as the class went on he came to realize that the focus of Marco’s attention was _Jean_. At first Eren had thought that maybe Marco had some sort of problem with Jean, and that made him angry, but as the days went on and Marco kept looking at Jean, Eren was getting more and more annoyed at the freckled classmate, waiting to see if he would do anything to Jean. After two weeks had passed with Marco staring at Jean (which was more than apparent to Eren but hadn’t once been noticed by anyone else – especially by Jean), something inside Eren finally clicked. Marco wasn’t looking at Jean like he had a grievance with the other boy – Marco was looking at him, like, well...

Eren watched as Jean turned in his seat to say something to him, and while Jean talked Eren could see Marco watching from the other side of the room, blushing.

Shit. Marco Bodt had a fucking crush on Jean Kirstchein. 

It was like Eren’s life had come crashing down around him. Suddenly the blinding white feeling of absolute rage came over him. How dare Marco have a crush on Jean – _his_ Jean, the boy he’d been friends with since almost birth. Eren vividly remembered those 2 weeks years ago when Jean had had a crush on Mikasa, and how fucking painful that had been. But back then Jean had lost interest in Mikasa before Eren could even figure out what he was feeling – this, though, was the first time he’d seen someone actively interested in Jean, and even without Jean knowing about their classmate’s crush on him Eren was terrified of what it could mean.

It was a few hours later when Eren realized the reason he was so angry about all this was because he had a crush on Jean too.

Since then Eren had been battling almost every day with the idea that he might have a crush on his childhood friend. He never had a moment where he thought _shit I’m gay_ , never questioned his own sexuality in the slightest, but Jean, on the other hand - Eren was questioning Jean’s sexuality every time he looked at him, trying to figure out if he had a chance, if Marco had a chance, if Jean was gay or straight or any spectrum of different identities that Eren had to research. 

Even so, Eren was never able to figure out just how to ask Jean what he identified as. Even when he tried to ask subtle questions, like if Jean found this person or that person attractive, or the one time he managed to get Connie to ask Jean about what kind of porn he liked watching, none of it really helped Eren because Jean was always vague and uninterested in all of it.

Of course, sexuality isn’t the only problem – even if Jean might be interested in guys, what’s to say Jean would even be interested in Eren if he were? What if Eren confesses his feelings and get shut down, makes it so Jean hates him and he ends up losing the one person (besides his mother) that he’s known his whole life? Eren hasn’t ever had much of a fear of anything, but the idea of losing the people closest to him is crippling, hurts so much that even imagining it makes him want to pull on his running shoes and run until he can’t breathe anymore. 

And so he suppresses his feelings for his friends, and hopes that as long as Marco doesn’t make any moves on him Eren won’t have to either. He’s reached a stalemate with a competitor who doesn’t even know it’s a competition. 

With a shake of his head Eren pulls himself out of his thoughts, ruffling up his hair as he looks back at the boy sitting across from him. A small bloom of affection goes off inside his generally cold heart, the first real warm feeling he’s felt in the past two weeks. God knows the last few weeks have been exhausting without Jean or Connie to talk to – especially with Mikasa being so far away and so busy with university – that Eren can’t help feeling indebted to the boy before him. It dawns on him for the first time that if it hadn’t been for Armin these past few days, Eren probably would have gone mad.

“Thanks, man.” Eren finally sighs. Armin looks up from the table, surprise on his face, and Eren finds himself smiling. “If I ever need anything, I’ll let you know.”

Armin looks at Eren for a moment longer, before it seems he finally decides that Eren is telling the truth. With a satisfied nod and a small shy smile, the boy changes the topic to a much lighter subject, paging though his pile of books while Eren kicks back in his chair to enjoy the light conversation, until the bell sounds for the end of their lunch period.

* * *

The school day finally ends with a load bell and a smattering of relieved sighs and tired groans from Eren’s German class. Eren is one to groan with them, stretching in his seat before sweeping his notes and small and shabby supply of stationery into his book bag before hurrying to his locker. 

While Eren has kept up a continuous avoidance of Jean and Marco during classes and breaks pretty well, something he has let himself slip in was avoiding them after school at the lockers at the end of each day. He doesn’t know why he always makes a point of being there at the same time as Marco. Maybe it has to do with that fact that, if he’s there, he’ll get to spy and see if the two boys have made up and are doing things outside of school. Maybe it’s to try and intimidate Marco. Maybe it’s because he needs to punish himself for his shitty behaviour by seeing them together, feel the anger and regret and jealousy swell up inside him. Maybe it’s all three.

He’s glad when he gets to his locker and sees that today it’s only Marco there, no Jean in sight. Without the blonde around Eren can ignore his freckled classmate to go about his locker routine without any distractions.

It doesn’t last long.

Within a minute Jean appears on the scene, walking straight up to Marco without even so much as a glance in Eren’s direction, which pissed him off immensely. He stops what he’s doing to listen to their conversation.

“Marco, I need to talk to you.” Jean sounded a little out of breath, simultaneously annoyed and nervous.

Marco was silent for a moment before forcing out, “Uh, yeah, Jean? Is... Is something the matter?” He sounded startled and _really_ nervous.

Jean seemed to gain some confidence with his next words, “Well, yeah, that’s kind of what I want to ask _you_. Is there a reason you’ve been ignoring me lately?”

Eren’s eyes widened. Jean was going to be so bold as to ask Marco directly what the problem was? Shit, what is Marco chooses now to confess? Shit, what if-

“I-I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Marco.” Jean sounds annoyed and exhausted now, but his voice takes on a softer, almost pleading tone as he continues, “Please, just tell me what I did, or what I didn’t do. I don’t know, but just tell me so I can fix it.”

Eren tears his eyes away from his locker to look at the pair, not able to keep his gaze away for a second longer. Marco is staring at Jean, bone white and eyes wide, his freckles dark splatters of ink on his paled skin. Jean looks at him in a way that Eren knows means that he’s frustrated and wants to punch something, but is still trying very hard to keep his temper, looking up at Marco with a pleading expression that screamed _please just talk to me, I want to understand_.

Marco opened his mouth, but it was a few moments before anything came out. “I-I’m sorry, Jean. Please, you didn’t do anything, it’s-” And then Marco looks up and sees Eren watching, and it’s like the world goes still. Marco’s words just falter, dropping out of the air like rocks to tarmac as his eyes fixated on Eren’s.

Jean frowns up at Marco for a second before turning to see what he’s looking at, surprise registering on his strong features before they are overcome with sudden realisation, turning hard with anger. 

Within a fraction of a second Jean has crossed the space between Marco and Eren’s lockers, slamming Eren’s locker closer with one hand as the other curls around Eren’s wrist. “You,” he spits in a quiet rage, “you did something, didn’t you?”

Eren just stares up at the golden eyes in front of him, enraptured in the fury before him, completely taken by surprise and unable to even think about breaking from Jean’s grasp. Marco, on the other hand, isn’t so spell-bound. 

Almost frantic, Marco can be heard from somewhere behind Jean, saying that Eren didn’t do anything and _please Jean don’t start a fight with Eren its okay-_

“Marco.” Jean says, cutting the freckled boy off midsentence, his voice much less intense that what he’d addressed Eren with, almost calm and soothing but still with an edge beneath it, “Marco, if you’d excuse me, I have some things I need to discuss with Eren before I can talk to you. Can we reschedule for another time?”

Before Marco’s even had time to reply Jean is pulling Eren away, down the corridor deeper into the school building while Marco just watches, anxious and confused. Eren isn’t surprised by the look on Marco’s face as they leave – it’s not often Jean gets like this, and when he does it really is a sight to behold. 

As Marco disappears around a corner Eren seems to finally find his thoughts again, looking up at Jean, towing him down the hall like a naughty child going to the principal’s office. But maybe that scenario isn’t that far off from their current situation. 

Before Eren can even ask where they’re going Jean is turning into an empty stairwell and slamming Eren against the wall, pulling the breath from Eren’s lungs, his arm pushing Eren to the wall with his hand fisted into the fabric of Eren’s shirt. Eren pressed up against a wall with Jean just inches from his face - it would be a wet dream if it weren’t for the circumstances.

“Okay, Jaeger, you’re going to tell me what the fuck you did to make Marco so scared of you, and why he’s been acting so fucking weird this past week.” Jean’s eyes narrow bellow heavy-hooded eyebrows. “You aren’t fucking _bullying_ him, are you?”

Eren gapes at Jean for a second longer, taking in his presence and proximity – they haven’t talked in two weeks and _this_ is how they end up? Jean accusing Eren of bullying someone, when Eren was the one in elementary school who always came running to fight the older boys that calling Jean names like horseface? 

Eren pushes Jean away. “God, Jean, of course not! I haven’t touched Marco, okay, what the fuck.”

Jean just scowls, removing his arm from Eren’s chest but not removing the distance between them. “Then you need to tell me what the fuck is wrong with him, and you need to tell me what the fuck your problem with him – with _me_ – is.”

“I don’t have a problem with _you_ , Jean!”

“But you do with Marco!”

“Of course I fucking do!”

They both stop, realising they’re shouting, Eren staring up at Jean with wide eyes. Jean stares down at him with eyes just as wide, his mouth open with no words to retaliate.

Eren can feel the prickle of unshed tears in the corners of his eyes. He pulls his hands into fists to control himself, his voice dropping in volume. “I’ve been waiting for him to take you away from me for years, Jean. And then, what, just because of some shitty plan I have for some shitty party, he finally swoops in and suddenly he’s like your best fucking friend and I can’t even talk to you anymore because I’m a piece of shit that couldn’t even apologise when I needed to. Of course I have a problem with him, Jean, how could I not?”

Jean stared at Eren for a moment, but Eren can’t see his face because he’s staring at the floor, focusing on the feeling on his nails digging into the flesh of his palms instead of looking at the boy before him.

“Eren,” Jean finally says, his voice full of emotions Eren can’t pinpoint. At least he’s not angry anymore. “Eren, that’s... What are you talking about?”

Eren sniffs, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyebrow in frustration, still staring at the floor. “I had this stupid plan that I would take you to this shitty party and we’d get drunk and dance and do the whole teenager cliché thing, you know? And I went to get more alcohol in my system because I was so fucking nervous and I was this close to telling you how much I...” Even now he can’t get himself to say it. “Anyway, then I’m gone for too long cause I’m a fucking cowards, and when I come back I find you gone, and I’m panicking and looking all over the fucking property to try and find you, only to be told by some tall sweaty dude that you’d left with Marco and I just... I was so _angry_ at myself, because I was so absorbed in my own feelings I didn’t even look to see just how much you hated being there, I pretty much pushed you into trusting a stranger to get home, when you don’t even like people.”

Eren gulps more air into his lungs and continues. He doesn’t even know if Jean is there anymore, he just wants to get everything off his chest, even if he’s talking to an empty room. “And then I get to English on Monday to find Christa in your chair and you’re sitting by Marco, and I get it ‘cause you always ignore me when I do something stupid, and I royally fucked up this time, so I was ready to apologise at break but then I find out from Christa that you went off campus with Marco – and – and I was just so _angry_ -”

Eren doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until he feels arms wrap around his shoulders, his body pulled forwards to rest against a chest. Without even thinking he wraps his arms around Jean to fist his hands into the back of his shirt, nestling his face into Jean’s collar and crying. Jean holds him tighter, making reassuring noises and slowly rubbing circles into his back. 

Jean waits until Eren’s shoulders stop shaking and his tears turn to sniffles. “You okay?” Jean murmurs into Eren’s hair, and Eren nods into this chest, sniffing again.

Jean continued rubbing circles into Eren’s back in silence before quietly murmuring, “Remember when we were younger and every time you got angry either Mikasa or I had to hold you like this until you calmed down?” Eren could practically hear the nostalgic smile on Jean’s face. “How long has it been since you needed one of these, huh?”

“I’ve needed one every day for the last two weeks.” Eren can’t help but begrudge quietly into the dip of Jean’s collar bone. 

Jean hit Eren’s shoulder, but didn’t pull away. “Yeah? Well then you need to learn to apologise and communicate better.” There was a pause before Jean’s grip around Eren tightens. “Fuck, and Mikasa’s not around either. I’m sorry, Eren.”

Jean moved away from Eren, holding him at arm’s length so he can look at him better, but Eren doesn’t want to look him in the face just yet, so he continues to stare down at the ground.

“Have you talked to Mikasa lately? Have you been talking to _anyone_ lately?”

Eren shrugs under Jean’s hands on his shoulders. “Mikasa’s been busy with a huge project, I didn’t want to bother her.”

“Eren-”

Eren quickly interrupted him, hating the concern in Jean’s voice, finally looking up at him. “But I have been talking to someone, kind of. His name is Armin and he’s always in the library. He used to be friends with Mikasa.”

A look of surprise crosses Jean’s face, turning into a smile. “That’s good, Armin’s a good guy.”

Eren just nods, looking back at the ground. He hadn’t really thought about Armin much, his thoughts always revolving around self-loathing and worrying about Jean and resenting Marco. He hadn’t even realized that without Armin’s light conversation and slightly probing questions Eren would have been lost at sea for the last two weeks.

He vows to find Armin tomorrow and thank him – not a small thank you like earlier today at lunch, but a proper important one.

“Eren.” Jean’s voice pulls Eren out of his thoughts, and he looks up again to meet Jean’s eyes. Jean smiles down at him, that look of concern still plastered over his features. “Eren, you know even if Marco might be my best friend, and even if... even if he might be my boyfriend someday-” they both cringe at the word “-even if Marco means a lot to me, you mean so much to me too, Eren, okay?” Jean frowns down at the floor, obviously trying to word what he’s thinking properly before looking at Eren again. “You’re like my brother, Eren, and I’ve known you longer than I’ve known anyone besides my own mother, and I swear to God I’m going to know you until the day I die, too.”

In the back of his mind Eren thinks that maybe he should be upset, even angry, because he’s just been told by his crush that they’re _like brothers_ , and isn’t it normal to react to that negatively? But no, what Eren feels is immediate relief, wants to start crying again because he was a fixture in Jean’s life just like Jean has always been one in his own. Maybe that was all that Eren ever needed – he needed to know that Jean wouldn’t leave him, just like when Mikasa was leaving for college and Eren sulked for months until Mikasa pulled out the old red scarf he had given her as a gift when their parents had first married, telling him that she would wear the scarf every day while she was gone and remember him. She still does wear it every day too, because every photograph of her on social media features that scarf, wrapped around her shoulders or hanging from her neck.

Maybe the only reason Eren ever felt jealousy towards Marco was because Eren just never wanted Jean to leave his side. He realises now that he didn’t need Jean at his side as anything romantic, as long as they’re connected somehow Eren will happily be his brother.

“Eren, fuck, why are you crying again?”

“No,” Eren sniffs, not fooling anyone. Jean sighs and pulls him back into a hug, his shirt still wet from where Eren had cried against it before. They stay like that for a few moments, Jean trailing a hand through Eren’s hair, until finally he’s stopped crying again and gently pulls himself out of Jean’s hold, smiling up at him in gratitude.

“You all better now?” Jean asks, slipping his hands into his pockets while returning Eren’s smile.

Eren just nods. “Yeah, I am, thank you. And I’m sorry.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, apology accepted.”

“I should probably apologise to Marco, too...”

Jean’s smile turned into a frown instantly. “Yeah, fuck. Do you, like... Did you do something to upset him at any point?”

Eren’s eyes darted to the floor. “Uh...”

“What did you do?”

Eren gulped nervously. “I said some stuff to him. But mostly I told him that if he hurts you, he’s dead.”

Jean groaned. “Eren.”

“I’m sorry.” Eren mumbled at the floor, head ducked into his shoulders.

“And when exactly did you have this little discussion with him?”

“...Last Friday.”

There was a long pause.

“Fuck.”

Eren’s head whipped up. “Jean-”

Jean shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay. This might explain why he’s been so weird lately.” Jean ruffled Eren’s hair. “Okay, I can probably make it up to him somehow. We’re good now, right?”

Eren bit his lip. “You sure you’re not mad at me?”

“No, you idiot. Just don’t do anything stupid for a while, okay? Please?” Eren scowled in reply, causing Jean to laugh. “Okay, well I need to get shit from my locker still. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Eren smiled softly. “Yeah, later.”

With a small wave over his shoulder Jean was soon around the corner and out of Eren’s line of sight. He watched after him for a long moment, before a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Eren.”

Eren swung around, his eyes moving to look at a shadow standing on the stairs above him, letting out a sigh when he recognised the short figure above him.

“Jesus, Armin, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” Armin said with an apologetic smile, taking a few steps down the stairs. “I, um, I was coming down the stairs here from Mr. Smith’s class but I overheard you and Jean talking and I didn’t want to interrupt...” Armin looked down at the stairs abashedly, his eyebrows drawn up in worry.

“Oh, um. That’s okay.” Eren rustled it through his hair, glancing down at the floor. “So, uh, how much of our conversation did you hear?”

“N-not a lot!” Armin declared loudly, clenching a hand into a fist before blushing at the volume of his voice. His next words were softer. “I was trying really hard not to listen. I only really heard the parts that were shouted.”

Eren nodded, a grin creeping slowly over his features. “Yeah? So you heard most of it then?”

Armin, if possible, turned even more red. “I... Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Eren just shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”

They were quiet for a moment, Armin coming to rest on the last stair while Eren placed his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet for lack of anything better to do. It was Armin that broke the silence. 

“So, did things go well with Jean?”

Eren’s head swung up to look at the boy on the stairs, startled out of silence before a small smile spread over his face. “Yeah, yeah I think it did.”

Armin nodded, a bright beam of a smile appearing on his face. “That’s great, Eren.”

Eren’s smile just widened at seeing Armin’s. A sudden fondness washed over him, a feeling he’d had more than once that day in relation to Armin. Here he was, a boy he’d known for less than two weeks, the only person in school that had tried to hold a conversation with him in the whole time – even when Eren was moody and overly aggressive and teetering constantly between self hatred and hatred of the whole world – here was someone that cared. 

He needed Armin to know just how much that meant to him. 

Before he could start forming something to say, however, Armin beat him to it. “So, did you... What’s going to happen between you two now?”

Eren shrugs. “We go back to being friends and I don’t have to ignore him in class anymore. And I need to apologise to Marco, I guess.” he cringes at the idea.

Armin’s eyebrows furrow into a frown. “So. Um. You didn’t tell him you liked him?”

“I- What?” Eren’s eyes bug, his heart rate picking up. He’d never told anyone that he might have had a crush on Jean, how did-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Armin soothed, stepping down from the stairs and moving closer to Eren, worry in his eyes and his hands out in an sign of reassurance. “I mean, I could be wrong, I just kind of _assumed_ that that was the reason you didn’t like him being around Marco, I didn’t-”

“Shh, Armin, it’s fine.” Eren cuts through Armin’s babbling in much the same way Armin had cut through his panicked thoughts, grabbing the shorter boy by his wrists and giving him a quick squeeze before letting go again. “I- Yeah, I liked Jean, or I thought I did, but I didn’t tell him.” Eren frowned down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I kind of realized that maybe I never really liked Jean in that way, I just kind of... Needed him? Or I needed to know that he wouldn’t leave me if he ever started dating someone?” He bit his lip in frustration, looking back up at Armin. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

Armin shrugged. “I... I don’t know, I guess it does...”

Armin trailed off and Eren let him, shrugging it off as the fell into silence again. This time it was Eren that broke it.

“So, uh, Armin.”

“...Yeah?”

Eren let a small smile rise crookedly over his face. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

Armin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What for?”

“For putting up with my bad temper. For being the only person to talk to me in two weeks besides my mom. For being just a really good person.” Eren’s eyes had ducked down to stare at the familiar linoleum tiles that line every corridor of the school. When he finally manages to tear his eyes away, he glances up to see Arming staring at him, his mouth a small “o” of surprise.

When their eyes meet Armin seems to snap back to himself, his mouth snapping closed as a blush creeps over his face. Eren can feel a smile trickle back onto his face.

“I- I- um.” Armin stutters, and now it’s his turn to stare at the floor. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Eren huffs. “Yeah right. I might be an asshole, but I know when I’m indebted to someone. Come on, Armin, just accept a thank you. You deserve much more than that, anyway.”

Armin manages a strangled laugh. “Okay, okay, I accept your thank you.”

Eren’s grin broadens. “Good.”

There’s a quick beat of silence. “Hey, Eren.”

“Yeah?”

Armin brings a hand up and clutches at the crook of his other arm’s elbow, looking anywhere but at Eren. “Um, you’re probably not going to be at the library much anymore now that you have your friends back.” Armin begins, and Eren’s about to contradict him when Armin continues, “but, uh, if it’s not too much to ask... Could we maybe hang out sometime? Could I – can I maybe get your number?”

Eren waits a moment before he laughs, the sound loud and bright between them as Armin looks up, startled. “Of course, you idiot!” He pulls out his phone and immediately opens a new contact tab, passing the phone over to Armin to type in his number. Armin takes a few moments to type it in, his fingers clumsy with surprise, and when he passes the phone back to Eren a few moments later he’s rewarded with a bright smile from Eren, brighter even than his laugh.

Eren immediately sends a text to Armin with his number, and the notification sound can be heard from the depths of Armin’s bag. “There we go!” Eren says, looking pleased with himself. “And just so you know, just cause I’ve made up with Jean again doesn’t mean I won’t still visit you in the library. And if you ever want to leave the library, you can always sit with us, you know?”

Armin’s eyes widen. “No, please, I wouldn’t want to impose on the two of you-”

Eren scoffs. “What, ‘the two of us’? I seriously doubt Marco won’t be with us. So having you there would be way more than welcomed.”

Armin lets a small smile creep over his face. “Really?”

Eren shakes his head. “Yes, of course, you idiot.” He looks down at his phone still in his hand, his eyebrows rising as he sees the time. “Oh, shit. Fuck!” he glances up at Armin. “Sorry, Ar, but I have to go like now or I’m going to miss my bus.”

Armin jumps. “No, of course, go!”

Eren grins, already on his way down the corridor. “I’ll text you later though, okay? See you!”

He gives a quick wave, waiting to see Armin return it before he turns and goes full-speed into a mad dash to the bus stop.

Even if he misses the bus though, Eren thinks as he runs, today turned out a lot better than expected. And later that night, when he’s home and finally finished with his maths homework, he pulls out his phone and spends the next few hours texting back and forth with his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that! Concrit or any sort of comment is appreciated.
> 
> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/


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